


Hunted

by curiobi



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural (TV), Wincest - Fandom, sam/dean - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling in Lust, Intense Sex, Intense Sexual Attraction, Intrigue, Lawyer Sam, Multi, Mysterious Dean, Mystery, Obsession, Oral Sex, Other Surprise Characters from Supernatural! - Freeform, Sexual Domination, Sexual Obsession, Suspense, Throw me a little love good people and Please Review if you like what you read ;), Wincest - Freeform, please give kudos to poor striving writers generously!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiobi/pseuds/curiobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b></b>
  <br/>
  <i>How far would you go to get what you want?</i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Legal Disclaimer, Synopsis, Characterisation, and Notes

##  ** Legal Disclaimer **

**Disclaimer** :I do not own supernatural… But a Fangirl can Dream

 **Disclaimer** : I did not create and do not own any of the images used in this story, I just found them on the internet, Kudos to whoever created them!

 **Disclaimer** : No money is being made from this story of any of the images used

###### 

##  ** Synopsis **

_How far would you go to get what you want?_

###### 

##  ** Characterisation for Sam and Dean in 'Hunted' **

###### 

**Sam's characterisation** is based on an extension of how he was in the episode where Dean was poisoned by the Djinn and went into a dream world where his mother was still alive, Sam was on his way to becoming a hotshot lawyer and was engaged to Jess, he was arrogant and a little smug and you could tell he was well on his way to becoming a ruthless man of law. Follow that through to its natural conclusion and Sam is a ruthless cutthroat lawyer with a famed almost supernatural ability to read people.

**Dean’s characterisation** in this story I believe is open to interpretation, I think he is what he would have become in the circumstances of the story, have a read and tell me if you agree ;)

###### 

##  ** Notes **

I don't put notifications that are not directly related to the chapter contents such as explanations for delays on chapters as I feel it interrupts the flow of the story. , so anything more than an emergency sentence (like sorry for the wait), for any chapters will have the chapter heading above them then the notes underneath and be posted here, thanks!

** curiobi  @~.~@ **


	2. Prey

Sam was tired, _he was just bone tired_. Only 27 and yet lately he felt like he was 47. He was married to a woman so beautiful that most men told him they envied him to his face.

He had a successful law practice, he had the best things money could buy; and yet something was just… _missing_ , and lately he felt it down to his bone marrow.

His brand new car started to make strange noises and he slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel, _his was **not** the neighbourhood to break down in. _

He automatically reached for his phone, -why wasn’t it… Oh yes, it had been beeping annoyingly to be recharged before he left the office and hadn't been able to last until he got home. Damn it, he didn’t have the dock to charge it in the car because the idiots who had delivered it were promising he would have it by next week, which naturally did nothing to help him now.

He pushed the button for OnStar… nothing, how the hell could that be happening, his battery wasn’t dead, he had some electronics, but the entire dash was flickering on and off as the car faltered and stalled, he tried the ignition but nothing happened as he tried his best to pull his dead, free-wheeling, Supercar over to the curb without drawing any more attention to himself than he already was. He managed to get the car alongside the curb and hit the brakes. He tried to ignition again, and again nothing happened.

He managed to get the car alongside the curb and hit the brakes. He tried to ignition again, and again nothing happened.

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. His phone would have lasted until he got home if traffic had not been diverted, but now he was in this part of town with a broken down Supercar, no OnStar for some reason, and a completely dead Cell phone. **_Great_** _._

A tap on the window made him jump, and he felt as if time was standing still as he found himself staring into the eyes of a man who was looking at him through his car window. It was very dark and he couldn’t make out much of the man’s features but there was something about the man’s green eyes that rendered him incapable of doing anything but staring. _It was the strangest moment of his life._

The man made quick ‘wind down the window’ motions and pressed the button for the electric window, _how the hell was that working when nothing else_ _was-_ wait what the hell was he doing? the sudden hammering of his heart in his chest as self-preservation kicked in had him stopping the window half way, what the hell was he thinking? _He had just made it even easier for the man to point a gun in his face and take his stupid overpriced car._

‘Hey take it easy’ the man said in a low drawl ‘I'm not gonna hurt you okay, it's just that this isn't the best neighbourhood to be driving around in a car that probably cost more than people forced to live here could make in a year’, the man whistled through his teeth as his eyes travelled over the car, ‘scratch that, more than they could make in _ten_ years, what in the hell were you thinking bringing this thing here? It’s kinda rubbing it in people’s faces you know’.

He finally found his voice but couldn't tear his eyes away. ‘Believe me, it was not my intention to drive through here and rile up the locals, traffic was diverted and I was forced to…’

He was never short of speech, never unable to find words when he needed them, but right now speech eluded him entirely as he continued to stare… it was strange, _but those eyes…_

‘Listen we're attracting a lot of attention, I know a thing or two about cars why don't you pop the hood and let me look at it, while you call your repair service- _Hey pal are you okay?’_

_Something was… there was something going on here…_

‘Look it's up to you, but you really want to get this started and get out of here quickly-HEY!’ The man snapped his fingers to get his attention and then discreetly angled his head.

Sam followed his line of vision, to the group of men watching them from across the street. The man was right _they were **definitely** attracting unwanted attention he had to get out of here fast._

‘I’ll try my best to get it started while you call your repair service’.

‘Can I borrow your Cell? Mine is dead and the OnStar button isn't working’.

‘Well okay, but…’ the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered looking phone that would not be out of place in a museum of lost relics.

‘What?’ the man asked defensively at what Sam assumed was his incredulous expression. ‘I like the menu, I can use it, it's set up the way I like it’.

‘It's a relic’.

‘The word you're looking for is _classic’._

'I don’t believe there is any such thing as a classic cell phone’.

‘Shows what you know, anyway, she's a bit temperamental today, so no calls only text messages you got someone you can text for help?’

‘You are _joking_ right?’

‘No, Look you wanna text someone or not?’

Sam took the phone silently and tried to make heads or tails of it, _the thing was not only ancient, it was a make he had never even heard of, and even when it was brand new in times long past he would not have given it a second glance._

The man cleared his throat ‘er you wanna pop the hood before someone decides to jack you?’

Sam pressed the button and watched the man walk to the front of the car, he didn’t bother getting out and pretending he could help, he didn’t know a thing about cars other than what was the most luxurious and how to drive them; also he was acutely aware that the man could be setting him up… but there was just something about him that told him he wasn’t, his ability to read people and his sharp -to the point of being a sixth sense- instincts were what made him such a successful defence lawyer. 

He sighed in frustration, what was he supposed to do text triple A? Even if he wanted to he couldn't, he didn't know their number, and the relic-phone predated internet features so he couldn’t search for it; well, if he was about to meet his demise via carjacking inflicted gunshot wounds the least he could do was text his wife, but after wasting precious moments of his life texting using the old-fashioned number key input he now couldn’t figure out how to send the message.

He sighed in frustration, what was he supposed to do, text triple A? Even if he wanted to he couldn't, he didn't know their number, and the relic-phone predated internet features so he couldn’t search for it. Well, if he was about to meet his demise via carjacking inflicted gunshot wounds the least he could do was text his wife, but after wasting precious moments of his life texting using the old-fashioned number key input he now couldn’t figure out how to send the message.

Well, if he was about to meet his demise via carjacking inflicted gunshot wounds the least he could do was text his wife, but after wasting precious moments of his life texting using the old-fashioned number key input he now couldn’t figure out how to send the message.

‘Hey try it now’.

‘Right’ He turned the ignition key and the engine turned over then stalled again.

‘Damit’ Sam heard the man say at the same time as he hissed it under his breath.

‘Okay lemme try something else real quick okay?’

‘Fine’.

‘You text for help yet?’

‘I would but it appears the send button is either broken or malfunctioning’.

‘Yeah, the buttons a bit temperamental’.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah’.

 _‘Temperamental’_  he scoffed.

‘Hey, all you gotta do is **A** : quit showing her you're attitude she's very sensitive to people looking down on her-

‘-She, who? **_The phone?_**   You cannot be serious, _phones do not have genders_ -

-‘And **B** :’ the man went on as if he hadn't spoken, ‘you gotta hold the send button down and sorta dig into it because it's kinda-

-‘Let me guess, it's kind of _temperamental’_.

‘Yeah’.

‘And which button exactly am I sort of digging into? You do realise that none of the buttons has markings on them anymore, I had to guess the buttons to text with, in old number keys that takes forever, currently, I'm simply assuming this is the send button-’

‘-Hey quit bitching about my phone, I bet you anything her battery last longer than your new age piece of space-junk’.

Sam shrugged because the man might well have him there. his phone could do just about anything a tablet computer could but the battery life was **_useless_** ; _his wife was right he had to start carrying a charged spare…_

‘Just hang on I think I've almost got this, then I'll show you which button to press’.

‘Thanks’.

‘Okay try her now’.

Sam tried the engine again and it turned over and started just as a group of large shady looking men began heading swiftly in their direction.

‘Get in’ Sam barked.

The man looked around, ‘hey for all you know, I could be one of them’.

Sam looked into his eyes for a moment, ‘No’. Sam's tone was resolute ‘You’re not; now get in the car, _we need to leave, **now**_ ’.

‘You’re a bossy one ain't ya’, the man grinned as he quickly got into the passenger side and Sam took off at speed.

‘Great, _Perfect_ , the Satellite Navigation is not working, what the hell is the matter with this damn Car? _It's brand new._ Do you know your way around here?’ Sam glanced over at the man who was apparently too busy stroking his relic phone to answer him.

Sam watched in disbelief as the man rubbed his thumbs back and forth almost lovingly over the worn faded keys and battered screen crooning, ‘come on baby, _just send,_ **that’s it baby get there** ’.

He frowned wondering if the man was some kind of _technophile_ or whatever the term was for persons who lavished affection on inanimate objects, _and exactly how this might pertain to his mental state,-_ and as the man continued stroking his phone almost suggestively and showed no intention of answering him It occurred to him that he might be so engrossed in his ridiculous actions he may not have even heard the question.

‘Do you know your way around here? Can you give me directions to get to uptown?’

The man looked up for a moment replying, ‘Sorry pal, no can do, I'm not from around here’, then returned his attention back to his phone.

_Great so neither one of them had any idea where they were going._

Sam took his eyes off the road for a second and looked at the man sitting next to him taking in everything about him.

He was almost ridiculously good looking, huge pouty lips, big green eyes, blonde hair, and a damn near perfect nose. The man’s perfect nose was clearly the deciding factor taking him from handsome into symmetrical beauty. He spent his life studying faces, clothing, and mannerisms on the stand, and over the years he had become adept at gathering a wealth of information simply from a person's appearance, the subtle nuances of which often gave the unique signs that told him a person was misrepresenting themselves or flat out lying. The man's clothing stated he was blue collar, and his relic of a phone and worn boots spoke to his financial situation; maybe he worked late at some kind of factory around here and was on his way home when he had spotted him.

He spent his life studying faces, clothing, and mannerisms on the stand, and over the years he had become adept at gathering a wealth of information simply from a person's appearance, the subtle nuances of which often gave the unique signs that told him a person was misrepresenting themselves or flat out lying. The man's clothing stated he was blue collar, and his relic of a phone and worn boots spoke to his financial situation; maybe he worked late at some kind of factory around here and was on his way home when he had spotted him.

The man's clothing stated he was blue collar, and his relic of a phone and worn boots spoke to his financial situation; maybe he worked late at some kind of factory around here and was on his way home when he had spotted him.

‘So, do you work around here, a new job perhaps that would have you unfamiliar with the area?’

‘Nah I'm not from around here I'm just passing through’.

‘Well what were you doing out here so late? Where are you staying?’

The man treated him to a devastating smile that lit up his dark green eyes and made them sparkle, ‘Heck I can't tell you that, you could be a mad killer’.

‘You will simply have to take my word that I am nothing of the kind’.

‘Well that’s exactly what a mad killer would say’. The man smiled again and he couldn’t help staring. The feeling that he had been waiting for that smile, _that he craved it_ , made no sense to him.

‘I'm staying at a motel a little ways up town’.

‘So what were you doing around here?’

‘Working’.

‘What do you do?’

‘What's with all the questions, no honest cop could afford this car so I'm guessing you’re a damn lawyer or something?’

‘Actually yes’.

‘Figures. Well Mr. lawyer, I plead the fifth’.

‘Why-’.

‘-Hey you wanna look at the road Mr. lawyer’.

He realised he had been staring at the detriment of driving and returned his attention to the road. ‘Sam’ he stated quietly'.

‘What?’

‘You called me Mr. lawyer, I'm telling you my name is Sam. It's called an introduction’.

‘Okay well…’

‘-Are you going to tell me your name?’

‘I don’t know Mr. lawyer Sam’ the man grinned at him, -and he felt it again, the nonsensical craving for that smile. ‘Are ya gonna use it against me in court?’

‘Oh for god’s sake- _of course not_ , how could I? You’re not on trial’.

The man looked at him intently and Sam felt a strange lurching in his chest and tried to concentrate on the road. ‘Any luck sending that message?’

‘Don’t worry she's getting there’.

‘Well maybe if you stroke a little harder’ he scoffed.

The man’s sultry voice dropped a couple of dirty octaves, a smile playing on his sculpted lips, ‘well that’s the general idea’.

‘You do realise that keeping an object when it can no longer perform its primary function it patently ridiculous don’t you?’

‘Wha… oh, you're saying I should ditch my phone’.

‘Clearly, it no longer functions correctly. What exactly is the point of keeping something that is useless when it can easily be replaced?’

The man shook his head and murmured, ‘look she's getting there. What you worried if you don’t send it yourself and delete the number you're texting, I’ll somehow track the address and come mug you in your sleep or something?’

‘Track me? _With that relic._  Yeah right’, he snorted.

‘Alright now you're just being mean to her, _don’t you listen to him baby’_ the man crooned stroking the phone.

‘I'm usually very good at reading people, but I'm not quite sure what to make of you, a man who risks himself to help a perfect stranger, yet refuses to so much as tell me his name, and has an unfathomable, borderline perverse attachment to a phone that at this stage could neither be traded in, or sold for scrap’.

The man smiled again and he found himself drawn to staring at his mouth.

‘So, since you will not tell me where you live, or even your name, will you at least tell me where I can drop you off?’

‘Anywhere's fine’.

‘ _Well not with me._ Firstly I don't even know where we are, but I can see we're still in a part of town I'd rather not be at this time of night so I have no intention of pulling over. Secondly, you risked yourself to get me out of a tight situation and you don't even know me, so the least I can do is drive you home’.

The man twisted sideways and looked at him, ‘not only bossy, but you're a stubborn one as well ain't ya?’

‘So I've been told’ answered quietly. _The last person to tell him that had been his wife this morning._

He finally turned onto a main road he recognised and began to get his bearings.

‘What? You suddenly look relieved or something’.

‘Well I finally know where the hell I am’.

‘Okay’.

‘So where are you staying? Can you direct me there from here?’

‘Look it's okay you're on a main road now, and you know where you are so it's safe for both of us, just pull over and- why are you staring at me like that?’.

‘I don't know, I apologise… So where should I drive you to?’

'Over by that taxi rank is fine’.

‘ _I'm assuming you don’t live under a taxi rank,_ so I can only conclude you are going to waste good money you could be using to purchase a working phone paying a taxi to drive you home when I'm happy to do so for free’.

The man smiled, ‘it won't cost that much, not enough to buy a phone anyway'.

‘Don’t be so sure, any savings you make letting me drive you home could easily cover the replacement costs of that particular outdated model you seem so fixated on. I feel confident someone has a replacement on eBay for 35 cents or so’.

‘Don’t listen to him baby, a suit like him could never understand us’.

Sam sighed, ‘You said you were just passing through, are you from out of town? You have an accent I can't quite place but it's not native New York that’s for sure. Are you visiting relatives or staying at a hotel, or renting a room somewhere?’.

‘What accent?’

‘I don’t know, some kind of vaguely southern state or country drawl, it's hard to say it's very faint and seems mixed with other things. People who were moved around a lot when they were kids, pick up many different dialects and as a result their speech patterns and accents often tend to be a unique amalgamation of the ones that stuck with them. I'm assuming that's what happened with you’.

The man was silent for a moment and then looked him over quizzically. ‘I thought you said you were a lawyer not a detective, what are you going all Sherlock Holmes on me for?’

‘I'm not, I'm just… in my line of work you tend to notice these things, for instance, a man stating on the witness stand that he is from one place while his bearing and accent tell you otherwise is a sure indicator that the man is either lying about his past or trying to hide something about his present. Either way, his testimony cannot be taken at face value. One might choose to have the man investigated or the truth may come out on the stand after vigorous cross-examination. The point is, noticing seemingly minute details like that, can be the difference between winning and losing a case’.

‘And have you ever lost a case Mr. lawyer?’

‘No’.

The man nodded a half smile playing on his full lips ‘I can believe that Mr. lawyer, this is probably the most questions I've ever been asked in one day. You sure know how to grill a guy’.

‘I'm not as you say ‘grilling you’, if I were you would know it, believe me. Now, which is it, are you staying with relatives or-

'-Jeez you don’t give up do you? I'm renting a room not far from here, so dropping me off anywhere around here is fine okay’.

‘So you don’t really need a taxi, your place is within walking distance?’

‘You just don’t give up with the questions do you Mr Lawyer’.

‘I told you it's Sam’ he snapped irritably as he glanced over at the man, ‘stop calling me Mr Lawyer’. Their eyes locked and for a second time and Sam found he couldn’t look away.

Some kind of deep buzzing and the sound of a rock guitar suddenly playing loudly made them both jump, -and Sam was instantly convinced the man’s crazy tales about keeping a phone that wasn’t working most of the time were true, because his entire face lit up as he rubbed the phone crooning, ‘ah baby, you're back’.

Sam looked at him with his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

‘Aww I'm sorry man’, he said looking over at him ‘she doesn't multi-task too well, when the call came in the draft message disappeared, I can probably get it back but…'

‘Ah, that’s okay, I’ll be home soon now thanks to you… So, don’t you think you better answer that?’

‘Oh right, yeah’.

The man’s face was in a wide smile as answered ‘hello’.

The man’s smile disappeared as he said ‘yes sir’ and Sam felt the loss keenly. ‘yes sir, I'm sorry sir, yes I will sir’.

‘Yes sir, I'm sorry sir, ...yes I will sir’.

‘Who was-’

‘-Look I gotta go, please pull over up at the corner up ahead’.

‘Was that your boss or something?’

‘Something like that. Over here's fine pull over’.

The man’s manner had changed so dramatically Sam couldn’t understand it, but he didn’t like it, the way he was just moments ago, smiling and laughing and rubbing his stupid relic of a phone with glee just because it rang, _that’s what he wanted._ …-Wait, what was he thinking? Why did he care? He didn’t even know this man, didn’t even know his name, and yet…

Sam pulled over.

‘Thanks’.

‘Hey wait, I mean… are you going to be alright?’

‘Yeah sure, look nice meeting you man, gotta go’.

‘Er yes, well thanks for helping me out’.

‘No problem’.

‘No really th-’ but he was talking to himself, the car door was shut on him mid-sentence and the man was striding away quickly.

He sat still for a moment trying to get a handle on his bizarre emotions. _He didn't want the man to go._ It didn’t make any sense- but everything in him, _every instinct he had_ was telling him he had just made a **_mistake_**.

Yes, he always followed his instincts, yes, they had never steered him wrong, but he still couldn't quite believe it when instead of turning off the way he was supposed to go, back to his safe existence, and his beautiful home, and beautiful wife, he turned his car around the corner _and followed the man._


	3. Trap

Sam sat at his desk in his study, unable to concentrate on the work he had brought home from the office yesterday.

 _He had lost track of that man last night;_ The man had turned another corner after the first one and seemed to just _disappear_. Apparently attempting to covertly follow strange men was not part of his skill set. He _should_ take that as a sign to let it go, chalk it up to temporary insanity but...

What was happening to him? He was perplexed at his current situation and uncertain of his next course of action. _**Why?**_ He always knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how to get it, he never deliberately wasted his time on anything non-productive, yet alone the frivolous pursuit of a man he'd just met, and yet here he was _still_ thinking about the man and **still** unable to come to a firm resolution.

He sat back in his chair, his lips compressed in a hard line. **Damn it.** _Why couldn't he get that man out of his head?_ He didn’t know a thing about him, the man had skilfully avoided answering any questions about himself.  ** _He didn’t even know his name,_** and yet...

‘Hi honey, what's got that look on your face?’

He looked up at his wife as the sunlight streaming through the half-closed blinds in his office lit up her golden hair and her smile lit up the room and just like often he was struck by her beauty, ‘Good morning Jessica’.

‘Wow full naming me huh, _our burden must be heavy indeed’_ she teased.

‘Sorry Jess’ he murmured as she came to kiss him. Jess had hated being called by her full name ever since their college

Jess had hated being called by her full name ever since their college days, when certain immature idiots had taken to calling her Jessica Rabbit, as he understood it after an animated character with her same name, who was not, in fact, a rabbit but a sultry over-endowed woman. 

He had heard about it around the campus and without knowing a thing about the recipient of the unwanted sexual harassment he had realised the negative repercussions should this woman, whoever she was, choose to take action. Iin short, he would rather not sit through endless lectures on sensitivity and campus policy, or worse some kind of investigation while the faculty tried to ferret out the culprits to face disciplinary action.

To prevent this he decided to start issuing ‘cease and desist’ orders to his fellow freshmen warning them of the dangers and making it clear that should disciplinary action be a result of others failing to heed his warnings they would have to deal with him.

He had been quite surprised when possibly the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life had walked up to him one day and told him she had been laughing for the last few days thanks to him, because formally written apologies had been shoved under her dormitory door all week and the jerks who had been constantly harassing her had suddenly turned tail and run.

He had considered denying it at first but it was evident that she knew he was responsible even though he had never signed his name to anything, and he knew none of the cowards involved would have had the nerve to tell her or anyone else who was behind their sudden change in behaviour.

He'd been somewhat intrigued despite himself and asked her how she had traced it back to him without definitive proof of his involvement.

She had smiled and said it really wasn't difficult, all she had to do was ask which freshmen people thought had "most likely to put the fear of god in people" written in their yearbook, and when his name had consistently come up, she'd snuck into the back of one his classes to see if he lived up to the hype and found him coldly, ruthlessly, and efficiently tearing a defendant's testimony to shreds in a student trail.

When she'd witnessed him reducing the accused to "almost wetting himself in terror", causing him to break down on the stand and admit to stealing his roommates idea and passing it off as his own, something it may have been impossible to prove if he hadn't confessed, she was left in no doubt that he was the mystery man behind the bunch of fraternity jerks who'd been harassing her non-stop for months suddenly tripping over themselves to apologise to her. - _In writing no less,_ when she'd been convinced the Neanderthals weren't advanced enough to read.

He'd thought that was solid deductive reasoning. She was smart, **he liked that.**

The next time he met her he had been sitting under a tree with his nose in a law book when she had sat beside him and kissed him on the cheek, thanking him.

He had told her no thanks was necessary because the idiots responsible were in clear violation of campus rules and he had simply made them stop before they bought the entire college into the disrepute. The faculty would have to be seen to act at that point and when they intervened it would be one-time wasting incident after another for all of them. In short, it was better to bring the situation to a halt in its early stages rather than have it spread.

Jess had laughed even harder when after his explanation he had returned to his law book barely sparing her a glance.

‘You know I think I like it when you talk lawyer, Mr Sam’ she had smiled kissing him again, this time closer to his mouth. ‘Wow you are just too cute, but you're _way_ too serious’.

To which he had replied that harassment was a very serious matter and not something to take lightly.

‘Wow you know what they say about all work and no play right? I mean do you ever just put down the books and have fun?’

To which he'd replied ‘I'm not here to have fun, and while my parents could afford to send me here, I take pride in the fact that I earned a scholarship and I am paying my way-

-Jess had interrupted him by kissing him full on the mouth, ‘well that settles it Mr Sam you did me a favour so I'm going to do you one, trust me you have no idea how badly you need somebody like me in your life. You _need_ to learn how to relax, trust me Mr -soon to be lawyer- were gonna have so much fun together you’re not going to know what to do without me!’

Jess had decided to stay under the tree and have her lunch with him after that whether he liked it or not, and since she was content to sit beside him quietly while he read his law book and ate his sandwich he didn’t mind too much. Then she told him that she was going to start calling him ‘Mr. lawyer’ if he didn’t put the law book down and have lunch with her properly.

He had weighed up the matter and declined. He had another three chapters to get through before class and if she wanted to start calling him Mr lawyer he could hardly get upset about a declaration of future employment. He'd paraphrased his thoughts on the subject and Jessica had beamed at him, ‘well that’s what I'm going to call you now Sam just remember you brought on yourself _Mr lawyer_ ’.

He noticed that she seemed to like calling him that and he found himself liking it when she smiled, so he hadn't stopped her, not even when she tossed his expensive law book behind a tree, so he would ‘stop and appreciate the beautiful summers day they were having.’

He'd elected to pin her down on the grass and kiss her hard and fast instead, but something about being sexually aggressive with her, about the way she affected him hadn't sat right with him. Jess claimed she hadn't minded, that no girl minded being pinned down and kissed so passionately they couldn't think straight, but _he minded,_ he liked being in control at all times,  _even of himself._

A few dates later with Jess and two things had become abundantly clear to him. Firstly that 18 year old Jessica Moore was still a virgin, and secondly, she was _immensely_ distracting. He's actually drifted off into some daydream about her during a lecture and missed half a page of meticulous note taking as a result.

He decided to cool things down after that. _His academic achievements had to come first._ That was why he was here, to cement his education, not his love life. There was plenty of time for a serious girlfriend _after_ he passed the bar, and Jess was defiantly serious girlfriend material, he just didn’t have the time to make a commitment like that right now.

Things had come to a head when after turning her down for a date for the fourth time in a row Jess believed he had lost interest in her, which wasn’t the case, far from it, in actual fact he was far _too_ interested in her, _that was the problem,_ but he let her believe that it was the case because his best friend at the time Brady had made it abundantly clear that a women like Jess came along once in a lifetime and only a complete idiot would let her go just so he could be king of the poindexters.

-And even if he genuinely was that stupid, no guy ever ditched a girl because he was ‘too interested in her’, and Jess would never believe him if he tried to tell her that liking her too much was the real reason he wanted to call it quits. She would just assume he was lying and seeing someone else.

Personally, he didn’t see why Jess wouldn't believe his reason for needing to end things since it was the truth, but he went along with what Brady said _because what Brady didn’t know about breaking off romantic attachments was yet to be discovered._

Things had come to a dramatic head when Brady had dragged him to a party against his will a few weeks later after finding him in his room staring at a blank computer screen for the second day in a row.

Unfortunately, he'd discovered that thinking about Jess despite breaking up with her was overshadowing his attempts to concentrate on his paper and Brady had called time and railroaded him into some RnR under pain of calling Jess and telling her he was "pining away for her".

He should have seen it coming, Brady was just too smug, but he was too wrapped in being furious with himself for not having the self-discipline to simply forget about her and concentrate on his work to take enough notice.

Naturally, Jess had been at the party looking utterly beautiful standing by the pool in a bathing suit and damn near transparent sarong. All eyes were on her and Brady's ultra smug expression and ‘you’re welcome buddy’ as he clapped him on the back and went to go look for a drink _left him in no uncertain terms about who was responsible for her being there._

Jess was under the impression that he had coerced Brady into inviting her on his behalf because he missed her and he had no chance to explain otherwise as the party got into full raucous swing and he could barely hear himself think.

He was about to take Jess to one side and explain that this entire thing was Brady's idea not his, and although despite his best efforts not to think about her he still missed being with her, but nothing had changed and he still had to put his academic success first, when a stupid blind-drunk frat boy attempted to drag Jess into a drunken embrace and put his sloppy mouth all over her.

Jess had shoved him back and slapped him soundly before he could succeed, but then the drunken idiot had tried to get nasty and persistent, resulting in him charging over there before he even realised he'd moved and punching the frat boy hard enough to send him flying into the pool. When it became clear the fool was actually too drunk to swim His frat brothers had dived in to rescue him and he was suddenly the talk of the party whether he liked it or not.

When it became clear the fool was actually too drunk to swim His frat brothers had dived in to rescue him and he was suddenly the talk of the party whether he liked it or not.

Brady had appeared out of nowhere and sprung into action threatening the frat boys to keep their collective mouths shut _tight_ about the incident or their unconscious buddy would be up on charges that would make any charges they even _thought_ about pressing against Sam seem laughable. Jess had snorted ‘lawyers, seriously, -I'm fine by the way Brady thanks for asking-, and Sam, not that I'm not grateful but I could have handled that jerk on my own, I know self-defence and trust me his man region was about to be in a world of hurt courtesy of my knee'.

Jess had snorted ‘lawyers, seriously, -I'm fine by the way Brady thanks for asking- and Sam, not that I'm not grateful but I could have handled that jerk on my own, I know self-defence and trust me his man region was about to be in a world of hurt courtesy of my knee'.

He didn’t doubt that she could have handled the drunken idiot if she had to, but he had still felt furious enough to haul the unconscious asshole up, sober him up with good strong coffee _and then beat him unconscious again_ , but Jess had pulled him away insisting that it was nothing but a drunken over enthusiastic attempt at a kiss, nothing she couldn't have handled, and certainly nothing to go to law over.

Jess had suggested they leave quickly before the frat boys dumb jock friends tried picking a fight with him to save face, and Brady had quickly dragged him off to one side and pressed his off-campus apartment key into his hand and winked at him. 'You can use my place, it's no big deal, I’ll stay over in the dorm tonight, come on it's about time you sealed the deal buddy’.

He had taken the key mostly to shut Brady up and because he wanted to leave before anything else happened. He'd been fully intending to drive Jess home at first, but a few heated kisses later in the still parked car and he knew where it was heading. He wanted Jess, he couldn’t just walk away from her he realised as he drove her to Brady's place instead of her own, he was simply going to have to reconcile himself to that fact.

He wanted Jess, he couldn’t just walk away from her he realised as he drove her to Brady's place instead of her own. He was simply going to have to reconcile himself to that fact.

They had kissed most of the drive over and all the way up the stairs and into Brady's apartment, when he had carried her up to Brady's room, -no easy feat when you were still kissing- and laid her on the bed he was crystal clear about what he wanted. He had weighed it up and on balance, he was just as distracted without her as he was with her, it made more sense to have her with him and learn to work with the occasional distraction having a serious girlfriend caused than to be without her constantly thinking about her.

He had weighed it up and on balance and he was just as distracted without her as he was with her. It made more sense to have her with him and learn to work with the occasional distraction having a serious girlfriend caused than to be without her constantly thinking about her.

To this day he distinctly remembered how much he had to reign himself in that night. For one thing, he didn’t want to hurt her, Jess was a virgin, he wasn’t and he didn’t have any experience in being with one, and second, he was going to get her to marry him so his performance here really counted.

He remembered exactly how he felt as he untied the little sarong and then her bathing suit and she let him staring at him trustingly and unafraid murmuring ‘what have you got for me Mr lawyer’, then pulling him down to kiss her.


	4. Game

Sam frowned, _that man had called him ‘Mr. lawyer' as well_... It was just coincidence, all the man knew was his name and that he was a lawyer, and given that the man had acted as if he were deposing him for information it made sense that he called him that; besides as pet names went it was hardly imaginative, but that was his life lately he supposed boring, suit, tie, work, golf, **boring**.

 _He didn't even like golf_ , in fact, he _hated_ it, but more work was conducted on the green than in the office at his firm.

The only times he ever felt truly _alive_ these days was in the courtroom and even that didn't hold the fierce thrill it used to have for him.

 _ **Damit**_ he should have at least learned that man's name then it would be easier to trace him.

‘…And where still frowning' Jess murmured as she rested her forehead against his for a moment.

‘Sorry long night’.

‘I was worried about you, it was getting really late, I tried calling your cell but the automated service said it was switched off, then I got a text from you from an unknown number saying you were running late and would be home soon. You didn't mention car trouble so I wasn't overly concernd about you working late. I figured your battery must have died and you borrowed someone else's phone’.

‘Like I said it was a long night’.

‘You're telling me, I was waiting up for you, but the next thing I knew it was morning. Some wife huh’.

He smiled and kissed her. ‘Hmm’ Jess smiled at him, ‘were you really having car trouble, I mean should I be worried?’

‘About what?’

Jessica's beautiful smile widened mischievously,  ‘should I be worried that some hot new lawyer woman whose far more beautiful than me has snagged your attention?’

‘More beautiful? Sam looked incredulous and then comically belligerent as he snapped, ‘No thank you, it's enough trouble being married to a woman that turns heads everywhere she goes as it is’.

Jessica laughed, ‘oh wow Sam, most women would think that was the sweetest compliment a husband ever paid a wife, but with you sitting there scowling like that it's just hilarious’.

‘Yes well, there was no woman involved last night I assure you. My stupid car broke down, and I have just spent the better part of this morning giving the dealership a solid piece of my mind and negotiating the terms of my compensation. Would you believe they had the _audacity_ to offer me some piece of rusted scrap metal to drive to work in while they attempt to _fix_ a _brand new_ car? It was a suggestion as insulting as it was patently ridiculous and I set them straight in no uncertain terms’.

Jessica's golden eyebrows rose the way they often did when she was humouring his latest tirade. ‘No you're right, _the audacity_ _’_ she exclaimed, a soft smile playing on her full lips, belying her gentle humour at his notorious disdain for anything other than the absolute best.

‘Why should I be seen driving some bargain price substitute? Did _I_ break the damn car or did _they_ sell it to me broken? I made it abundantly clear to those crooks what they could do with their idea of a loner because I have absolutely no intention of accepting a car on loan while this situation is resolved unless it is of equal or greater value to the defective model they just sold me’.

‘Equal or greater value _to a four hundred thousand dollar car. O_ h I bet they _loved_ that!’

‘Do I care?’

Jess laughed as she walked around to the back of his chair and started massaging his shoulders gently like she often did, but like everything lately he barely felt it. Hhe was just so damn tired… That was until last night, he hadn't felt tired then, for the first time in a long time he had felt… coiled, tense Right or wrong… he had _felt._

‘They weren't exactly _happy_ about that particular demand no, _but then I am not exactly thrilled here either’_ he growled. ‘In fact they attempted to flat out refuse me until I spelled out what would happen to them if I were to file a lawsuit against them for selling me a defective car with a defective satellite navigation system in it, which led me into one of the roughest neighbourhoods in the city, where it and the car promptly died and left me at the mercy of local hoodlums’.

Jess sucked in her breath and pulled his face around to hers, ‘You didn't tell me that! That's terrible! Anything could have happened to you!’

‘Believe me they are aware of the position their shoddy merchandise put me in, and what would happen if that information were to be made public’.

The phone rang and Sam picked it up snapping ‘Denison', his eyes narrowing as he listened and then barked, ‘are you mentally deficient! Why exactly would I want that piece of trash repaired? One does not _repair_ things that are brand new’.

‘The facts, in this case, are clear, the car is _broken_ and I demand a new one’.

... ‘Is that so? Well I suggest you listen to what I'm about to say very carefully before you put your so called career into further jeopardy. _Put me through to your manager who is supposed to be handling this **immediately** ’ _

 _..._ ‘Yes this is he. To whom am I speaking?’

... ‘Is that so?’

... ‘Then it is in order for me to suggest you keep better track of your staff. Have you perhaps considered tying mittens to their quick little hands to stop them making calls they are ill-equipped to handle?’

… ‘No, that was not an attempt at humour that was me asking you if aside from wasting my valuable time, you are also set on taking me for a complete imbecile?’

… ‘No you say? Then do you fondly imagine that I am unaware you were attempting to fob me off with some _gofer_ on the shop floor rather than deal with the mess that your incompetence and shoddy merchandise has created’.

… ‘Feel free to save any explanations, the actions of your company have left me with no recourse but to file detailed and extensive legal paperwork against you effective immediately’.

… ‘My legal team? Denison and Masters’.

… ‘Yes I am _that_ Sam Denison’.

… ‘Really? Well, let me tell you that your heartfelt apology means precisely _nothing_ to me. After this latest incident I will be satisfied with nothing less than a brand new car delivered to my home by the close of business _today._ Not to mention _full_ compensation for the extensive inconvenience this situation has caused me, _and_ I will also be expecting a personally written letter from the CEO of the company accepting full liability, acquiescence to my perfectly reasonable requests given the circumstances, and offering sincere and unreserved apologies for the personal distress this incident has caused to me’.

… ‘No, I am not joking, in fact, I think you will find I am deadly serious, but if you think otherwise, if you believe I will hesitate for even a moment before suing you into insolvency _try me’._

Jessica groaned faintly and then rubbed her face gently along Sam's before pulling back to look at him. ‘Winning friends and influencing people that's my Sam’ she whispered in his ear as he slammed down the receiver and glared at it.

The phone rang almost immediately and he snatched it up barking ‘Denison’ into the receiver.

... ‘And who is this?’

... I could not care less if it's not standard procedure in this kind of situation, or who in export management does not like it. The matter is quite simple and believe me I will not be repeating myself again so let me spell this out for you clearly. If you want to avoid being very publicly sued and do not want to deal with the scandal and loss of consumer confidence that I assure you will be the fall out you will acquiesce to my demands quickly and _silently’._

‘Ooh’ Jessica breathed out distractingly in his ear ‘you're giving me chills Sam’.

‘One moment please I have an important call coming in’, he hit the mute button on the phone and hissed, ‘This is not a laughing matter Jessica’.

Jess came around his office chair and sat in his lap patting his shoulders mockingly as he glared at her, ‘you go on with your call Mr. lawyer you don't mind me at all’.

Sam gritted his teeth as she teasingly ran her hands over his chest and shoulders while kissing him in a practiced move she often used on the rare occasions they disagreed, because it distracted him from whatever valid point he was making and gave her the upper hand _and she knew it._ ‘Jess I repeat this is a serious matter that currently demands my full attention’.

Jess smiled at him and kissed along his face and jaw murmuring ‘I'm not disagreeing, you get back to it Mr Lawyer’ as he glared at her his eyes narrowing as he hit the mute button again.

'I'm back’.

… ‘Is that so?’

... ‘Do not be so sure, suffice it to say, I can have paperwork filed within the hour accusing your company of breach of contract miss-sold goods, reckless endangerment, culpable negligence, and a host of other things’. Sam's voice lowered a smooth dark octave as he almost purred ‘and then _I will get creative’._

‘Oh lord’ Jessica breathed in his ear.

‘You do that, but see that you do it in the time stated, I have made my position on the matter clear’.

‘Has the poor kid on the other end of the line started crying, or lost bladder control yet?’ Jess whispered, ‘because I've seen you do that to people before’.

‘Fine I will expect to take delivery of the new car this afternoon no later than 5pm’. Sam slammed down the receiver and turned his attention to Jess. ‘I was speaking to the chairman of the board of the entire franchise in Europe, not some junior lackey on the shop floor in America, and if he soiled himself during our conversation that's his own affair, all I need him to do is order the situation resolved by the end of business today _or else’_.

‘Ooh, well I hope for his sake and the sake of his job he does just that or I'm guessing he can kiss his fancy European office goodbye before you're done with him’.

‘ _Long_ before I'm done with him’ Sam growled.

Jess kissed him and ran her hand through his hair where it brushed against his collar, ‘does it make me a bad person that I like it when you're tearing your poor opponent to shreds like that?’

‘I don't see how’.

Jess kissed him and gently ran her long red nails down his cheek. ‘I'm sorry I was asleep when you got back’ she murmured, kissing him again.

‘When I finally managed to get home you had fallen asleep with your digital tablet in hand while waiting up for me, I didn't want to wake you, so I carried you to bed and slid in beside you’.

‘Mmm sounds sexy, sorry I missed it’.

‘I'm just glad I got to come home to you. Had it not been for the efforts of a good Samaritan if you will, and his ability to get the car started again the situation may well have turned out far worse than it did. It was his phone that I was able to text you from, unfortunately the phone was a relic from a bygone era and I was unable to use it to actually call you’.

_The man must have still sent the message or wrote a new one even after he dropped him off._

‘Well you did say it was a very underprivileged area right, maybe the poor man couldn't afford anything better, I hope you weren't well… _you_ about it’.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’.

Jessica sighed ‘I hope you didn't start making comments about his phone not working’.

Sam's silence made Jessica shake her head, ‘what am I going to do with you’ she murmured kissing him lightly on the lips, ‘and after he was nice enough to help you out’.

‘His apparent good deed does not negate the fact that his phone was a malfunctioning relic, or that apart from being someone who helps those stranded when their overpriced cars break down he could still also be a serial killer in his spare time, like I'm always telling you, everyone has something to hide’.

‘Well lucky for me the only thing I ever tried to hide from you was that I seriously enjoy Muppet movies, a terrible secret that was exposed when you found my secret stash’.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head as Jess laughed ‘oh come on Mr. cynic, even you have to admit that something good happened here, like I'm always trying to tell you, not absolutely everyone has something to hide or is up to no good. This man helped you out of the kindness of his heart there was nothing in it for him at all and I hope you were kind enough to offer him something for his trouble’.

Sam sighed ‘maybe my work does make me jaded Jess, but there is a lot of bad out there, I see it on a daily basis, the real ugliness under the veneer of civilised society, and no I didn't offer him any money perhaps I should have but I knew he was the type that wouldn't take it, and get offended if I pushed the matter’.

‘I would ask how you know, but it's you, _“The Soul Reader”_ so I guess you're probably right’.

‘I hate that damn nickname; being able to read people is really not all that difficult, you just have to pay attention. I did give him a ride to somewhere near where he was staying, although it was difficult to get him to accept even that small method of repayment, and he was evasive the entire drive, refusing to tell me the exact address’.

‘You don't think… he was homeless do you?’

_He honestly had not thought of that at the time, when it probably should have been among the first things to come to his mind._

‘It's difficult to say, I would have gladly driven the man home and emptied my wallet into his lap if he would accept it, but like I said he was clearly the working class pride type, he wouldn’t have taken what he would view as a handout, even though he clearly needed it’.

The man's image flashed into his mind so sharp and clear it hurt for a moment, and suddenly over Jess touching him and over the familiar scent of the perfume she always wore which clung to her hair and her skin so she always smelled like spice and flowers, he could smell a sharper more masculine note, but it was strangely akin to the scent he was breathing in now. He looked into his wife's eyes, _green just like that man,_ similar mouths similar colouring…

He hadn't really looked at Jess properly since she came into the room he was too busy venting his fury about his damn car, and the light from the half closed blinds had been streaking across her face partially obscuring her eyes and mouth to shadow, but looking at her intently now _he was right_ the man and Jess… _they could easily be mistaken for siblings,_ no wonder he couldn't stop staring at him it was actually _disconcerting_ how alike they looked now he thought about it.

Maybe that was what all the weirdness was about? he had run into a man who could easily pass for his wife's brother even though jess was an only child, maybe it was the strange resemblance that had thrown him…

‘Sam, are you okay?’.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced ‘Yes I'm fine’.

‘Are you _sure_ you're okay'.

‘Yes I'm just getting a headache or something’.

‘Really,  _you're_ getting a headache, wow this is a first, in all the years we've been together you've never once caught flu, or been hit with some awful stomach bug going around at work like the rest of us mortals, you've always been in perfect health. Do you want me to get you an aspirin?’

‘No I'm fine it's more likely tension related than health related, you know how much I _detest_ having my time wasted by incompetent idiots’.

‘Yes I know, well if it's tension that's causing the problem maybe you should lie down’.

‘Impossible. I have too much work to do'.

‘It's Saturday morning Mr. workaholic' Jess murmured as she kissed him and he put his arms around her holding her closely. Normally this bought him a kind of peace he thought as he ran his fingers through her waist length blonde hair, twisting a golden coil over his index finger, but today her hair colour drew his thoughts back to the man he had met last night and his head began to ache.

Yes they fiercely resembled each other, but that didn't explain the feeling… the way he was drawn to him, it was about more than just how he looked, it was something else, something more, something he couldn't explain because he didn't understand it.

Jess pressed up against him the same way she always did when she wanted him to make love to her, and he briefly considered turning her down. Lately he and Jess were at serious loggerheads about babies, Jess wanted them, he didn't. His parents had always told him not to rush, they had him very late, and having enjoyed life to the full they'd been ready to devote themselves to raising their only son. He did feel a void in his life, deep down in his soul he knew _something_ was missing, but it wasn't children, and he didn't want to have them, not yet, not until he found…

‘Sam’, Jessica purred snapping him out of his thoughts as arousal hit him when she said his name that way. ‘it's been days, come on we're not going to keep on fighting about this. If you still want to wait to have kids then I can wait a couple more years, but just remember I'm not interested in having my first child after forty just because your mother did. 30 Sam that's my maximum, three more years then I'm going to obtain your DNA with a court order Mr Lawyer’.

Sam smiled and Jessica kissed him, the sun was making her golden hair shine like a halo and her full soft lips were parted in a way he found irresistible, ‘you really are incredibly beautiful’ he said slowly.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. lawyer, way to deflect the conversation’.

‘I wasn't, I really do think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen'.

‘Why thank you I try’.

‘You don't have to try to be beautiful Jess' he said seriously ‘you just are, inside and out. It was a very good day for me when you kissed me and threw my law book behind that tree back at college, I knew anyone who could distract me from my research was worth a second glance’.

‘Sweet talker’.

‘I'm not sweet talking, I'm stating facts’.

Jessica kissed him long and hard gently rubbing up against him and he felt the first stirrings of real interest as he kissed her back and took her to bed all the while trying to put the nagging sensation that something was wrong out of his mind.


	5. Hunt

Jessica was sleeping in his arms peacefully and Sam grabbed the ringing phone before it continued blaring and woke her.

‘Sir you told me to contact you the minute I had anything, do you want to discuss this over the phone?'

‘No, my house 30 minutes', Sam looked over at the sleeping Jess. ‘Actually, scratch that. Do you know the coffee house over on main?’

‘Yes’.

‘Meet me there instead’.

‘Yes sir’.

Sam eased Jess out of his arms and dressed quickly. He had made the right decision to put his best investigator on the case just before Jessica had come into the room and he had been dragged into wasting his time dealing with the incompetent idiots at the car company.

He searched for his keys and then huffed in irritation as he remembered that he _still_ didn't have a working car. He had been far too generous with those idiots today, he should have made them bring the new one round immediately and screw the paperwork they begged him to give them time to complete _, and now he was paying for his leniency_.

There was no other choice he thought as he sighed in frustration, he would just have to take his wife's ridiculous Porsche. He quickly wrote Jess a note in case she woke before he returned telling her he had to leave on urgent business and had been forced to take her so-called car, and placed it on the dresser as he set out.

It took three attempts for him to wrangle his 6'6 frame into the tiny car, and he banged his head more than once. He simply could not understand why anyone would buy a car that was so small it would not look out of place on a monopoly board, what exactly was the point? If you were going to spend money on a car, it should be an actual  _car_ , not a miniature plastic toy.

Sam looked at the inconspicuous brown envelope his investigator handed to him as they sat in the crowded coffee house. It was overly warm and the thrum of chatter as kinetic jazz music played was almost too loud, thankfully it died down as a group of noisy students finally took the hint that neither they or their disjointed new age jazz noise were wanted in the exclusive upmarket coffee house and left as he picked up the envelope after the waitress delivered his order of black coffee.

The envelope was sewn shut and marked confidential and tension shot through him as he reached for the solid silver pocket knife his perfectly ordinary - _until it came to gift giving_ \- parents had given him when he left for college, carefully cutting the intricate stitching, before breaking the seal and pulling the contents of the envelope out as the investigator ordered a refill and sat drinking it in silence while he examined the gathered information.

The picture was of the man, there was no mistaking it, the investigator had found the right person, but the picture was not a small official photo attached to a full bio on the man detailing everything from his social security number, to his mother's maiden name as he had come to expect from his investigators; instead it was a full sized surveillance photo with no name attached, in fact, there was no official documentation on the man at all, just a stack of photographs.

‘Are you telling me that despite all the resources at your disposal you could not find out this man's name?’

The investigator frowned and shook his head.

 _Unacceptable._ ‘you're supposed to be one of our best that's why I asked you to look into this, and you can't even uncover a simple thing like a name?’

‘Oh I have _A_ name for him, it's just not _his_ name, it's an alias, one of many’.

‘Where is he now?’

‘I don't know’.

‘What the hell do you mean _you don't know?_ All these pictures are date stamped as taken today, meaning you clearly tracked him down and tailed him all afternoon so how can you not know where he is?’

‘That's just it sir I was tailing him but then he just… _vanished_ I don't know how else to explain it, one minute he was there and the next he wasn't… I know it sounds ridiculous sir but I don't know how else to describe it’.

_The same thing had happened to him granted, but he wasn't the professional at tracking people here, that was supposed to be the man sitting across from him, and what the hell was his best investigator's excuse? That the man simply up and vanished into thin air._

‘You better start your report from the beginning’.

The investigator nodded and set his coffee down ‘A man matching the description you gave me has been seen in the same neighbourhood you first encountered him last night twice in the last week, he does not appear to live there, and no permanent address can be found for him at this time. No one seems to know him directly, or know anyone who knows of him. in fact it seems to me the only reason anyone even remembers seeing him is his appearance'.

‘Meaning?’.

‘He left quite a favourable impression on the women I spoke to about him’.

‘Right go on'. _The man's ridiculously good looks were not his main focus of interest here._

‘The subject is elusive Sir, suspiciously so, and my investigation has uncovered at least four alias names taken from famous rock stars. Upon further investigation I was able to learn that he has been using hacked credit cards to pay for motel accommodation across town, however, on visiting at least two of the motel rooms he booked using these credit cards I could find no evidence that he had been to either’.

‘No one remembers seeing or talking to him, and neither of the rooms looks as if anyone has stayed there in the last few nights’.

‘Obviously, he can only be staying in one motel room a night, so he seems to be creating a false trail that could lead someone to any of the various locations he may be staying in’.

‘From what I can establish, he alternates the cards and never uses the same one for long and maybe that's the key to his success. He makes relatively small transactions over a short period of time, making it virtually impossible to trace which of the several motel rooms he is staying in if any of them’.

  
‘This brings me to another factor making it difficult to pinpoint and track his exact base of operations, namely the fact that he may be in none of the various locations he is leaving a paper trail to. The evidence says credit card fraud is his preferred method of affording a place to stay, however, it's also conceivable that booking motel rooms all over town for the same night using hacked credit cards is a diversionary tactic designed to throw pursuers off his trail while he pays cash to stay in an entirely separate location which no one is aware of’.

Sam turned over the information in his mind; _it explained how the man could have such worn boots and a broken phone while apparently having at least 4 hacked credit cards at his disposal, he was using them to hide... But from who? the authorities? criminal organisations? just who was this man?_

‘I believe -and this is merely speculation at this point- that the subject has changed location twice in the last six days and will probably cancel the cards he is using soon. Whoever he is it's clear that he knows exactly how to get away with what he is doing, the cards he's using now have a customer billing date at the end of this month and we're at the beginning, he clearly knows that small transactions charged to the cards of people who can more than afford it are not likely to be flagged as suspicious until the person receives their bill at the end of the month, even then these persons are wealthy enough that it may be the card holders accountant that eventually flags up the erroneous charges, not the card holder, and by that time he will have destroyed the cards and switched to others’.

 _The man was clearly adept at hiding his trail, this explained why he had refused to answer a single question about himself... Yet he had stopped and helped him when his car had broken down,_ **_why?_  **

Sam's eyes narrowed, ‘I don't pay you to speculate, I pay you for facts, in future I suggest you take care to bring me facts when I ask for them is that clear?’

‘I apologise sir, even for a preliminary report I know this is light on facts, just give me more time and I will get the information you need I assure you. I have never let you down before sir’.

‘I know, it is the only reason I am not terminating your employment right here and now. Have you have anything else to report?' he asked draining the last of his coffee and signalling the waitress for a refill as he mulled over what the investigator continued to tell him’.

He briefly considered alerting the authorities and then he examined the charges on the accounts his investigator had somewhat illegally accessed and checked the details of the hacked credit cards the man was using. $4000 on dog pedicure, manicure and five nights at an "exclusive doggie hotel" was just one of the frivolous expenses to catch his eye. It paled in significance to the $55 dollars for two nights stay in a cheap hovel downtown that the man had added to a wealthy trust-funders account, and he found he simply couldn't bring himself to care about a stray $55 dollar charge that probably wouldn't even be noticed by the overprivileged New York socialite.

The investigator finished detailing the last known information on the man's location and actions. Everything his investigator had uncovered made a compelling case for the man being involved in something that was probably dangerous, and definitely illegal, but the what and the why were still a mystery, and he _still_ didn't know the man's real name, yet alone where to find him, or where he was going next; essentially, despite all the information he had been told and the stack of pictures in his hand he still knew as little about the man now as he did when he first met him.

In fact, rather than giving answers what he had been told presented more questions: who was the man hiding from? How did he obtain money for food and clothing and rooms paid for in cash? He clearly wasn't using the cards to pay for any of these essentials because no such charges had been made to any of the hacked cards and no cash withdrawals showed. Frankly, everything he had learned today was making things _more_ perplexing not less.

He rested the pictures on top of the envelope and stared at the investigator, who despite his youth was one of the best, and had even been nicknamed "The Fountain" amongst the team of investigators that worked for Denison and Masters due to his ability to hack just about any computerised system quickly producing a literal fountain of digital information on anyone he investigated.

‘This time it seems ‘‘The Fountain’’ has only managed to produce a tiny trickle of information.  _I am not impressed. W_ hat about the text he sent to my wife's cell-phone, why is there no mention of that in your report?’

‘It was a dead end sir. I tracked the number but it was no longer in service, my hypotheses is the man regularly rotates phones, changes and discards sim cards, or uses a disposable burner phone without GPS or Internet, meaning he can not be tracked by his cell phone’.

Having seen the man's relic phone he had no trouble believing his investigators claim that it was off the grid; however, this threw up even more questions about the man's elusive behaviour. 'The information you have provided leaves me with more questions than answers, you will continue the investigation and let me be clear, I want to know the name of the man in that photo, it is an absolute priority that you find out his name and current location,  _is that clear?’_

‘Yes sir. Do I have your permission to expand the scope of this investigation? Some things are bothering me and-

‘-Do whatever you need to; you will be fully recompensed as usual’.

‘Yes Sir. I will contact you as soon as my report is ready’.

‘See that you do so promptly’.

‘Yes Sir’.

Sam examined the shots of the man entering and exiting two separate buildings as the investigator left. Both buildings were deserted according to the investigator's report and in the photograph the buildings looked as if they had been condemned, there seemed to be no reason to go into either of them... _was he sleeping there?_

The next photograph of the man showed him with that useless phone of his in his hand in mid-speech, he was wearing that same expression he had suddenly taken on in the car that night and he wondered if he was speaking with the same person, the one he called "Sir".

The next set of shots showed him rubbing the phone repeatedly before putting it in his pocket, _temperamental_ he thought rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his strong black coffee and laid the pictures down.

All his life he had learned to trust his instincts, they had never steered him wrong before, so now either he was going crazy because he was due a colossal fuck up in his generally well-ordered life, or his instincts were right as usual, which meant that no matter what he had to find this man  _and_ _fast_.

It was obvious the man was transient and could disappear in an instant, and with no real information of any kind on him, unless he found him now while he was still in town he could lose track of him _permanently_.

The idea of never finding the man was unacceptable to him, he had already reconciled himself to that fact before he put his best investigator on to the case, he didn't question the why of finding him anymore just the _how_ as he rang the investigator,

‘did you find any evidence that the man was sleeping in either of the condemned buildings? Well, check again, if he is on the run as we suspect, and money becomes a factor he may resort to that. I'm authorising you to put two more of our best on the case and use whatever resources you need, bottom line I want this man found in 24 hours’

His head throbbed like it never had before as he hung up the phone and he was surprised when a splash of crimson hit the small wooden table,  _was his nose bleeding?_

He grabbed the napkin on the table and wiped his nose surprised when the white napkin came away with smears of **_red_ **.****

********

********

... _This was new,_ he was _never_ sick, not ever. Jess said it was probably because he was a highly advanced cyborg under all the sexy man meat.  _Sometimes Jessica was really too much, -_ but she bought fun to his life, she was everything he wasn't, she was outgoing, vivacious, warm and full of laughter, she loved life, where he viewed it as a struggle, a constant battle to be fought and won. She loved people, where he instinctively distrusted them down to the last child. Most inexplicably she loved him with equal amounts humour, patience, and passion, when most people were afraid of him if they crossed him and content to simply give him a wide berth otherwise. In short, he was nothing like Jess.

Beneath his "handsome hot" as Jess called him exterior he knew he was cold and cynical, he didn't see the good in anything or anyone because he didn't believe in it, his job had taught him just how depraved the human mind could really be, and even before he became a criminal defence lawyer he had always felt that most of his privileged upbringing was a sugar coated façade stretched over the darker reality of real life.

Growing up amongst the elite often showed its own darkness, the ugliness of watching those around you act as they pleased because they had the money to buy away the consequences no matter whom they trod on to do so; and added to this was the sure and certain knowledge that every one of these so-called _friends_ would physically sell you if it meant not losing their summer house, maybe that was why he had no _real_ friends. Jess was the one with all the friends and _her_ friends were his friends by extension, he knew she didn't see it that way, and maybe even some of their ‘‘friends’’ didn't see it that way either,  _but he did_.

Jess dragged him to all the most fashionable places, arranged frequent dinner parties whether he liked it or not, and brought him to the many elaborate parties her work organised.

He went mostly to please her and because her PR firm made his Law firm a lot of money and his Law Firm saved her PR company a lot of money, so he would have been required to attend most of the events for the good of his firm whether they were married or not. That knowledge, however, did nothing to alter the fact that he _hated corporate socialising with every fibre of his being_ , it was far removed from the thrill of the courtroom, from fighting a case, from the one place he truly enjoyed being, the one place he belonged, where he didn't have to grit his teeth and count down the minutes until he had paid enough token lip service to leave.

A splash of crimson hit the man's photograph and he reached for his monogrammed silk handkerchief, that Jess had decided his bespoke tailored suit needed for some reason, and dabbed at his nose. Blood seeped over the monogrammed letters, and for some reason he found himself watching the crisp stitched white SD of his initials slowly staining crimson red against the black silk.

He turned his attention back to the photograph of the man wiping his blood off the photograph with his finger, the blood smeared and left a stain across the man's face, smearing his beautiful lips with **blood** and his head throbbed harder, his instinct telling him one thing

_**Something was wrong.** _


	6. Blood

_He was standing in a river of blood. Bodies washed past him and he looked at them dispassionately because that was the cost wasn't it? People died one way or another didn't, they? How could he really care about any of them?_

Sam sat upright in bed, he was breathing hard and covered in sweat and his heart was pounding so hard his chest hurt. The room was dark and Jess was asleep beside him, he didn't want to wake her so he quietly got out of bed and went into his study sitting down wearily in his chair.

 _It was just a bad dream._ Maybe it was due to stress, this situation, this _predicament_ he found himself in with the hunt for this man. It was nothing he was used to, he needed answers, _he needed to find him._

He glanced at the clock on his desk and sighed, there was no point going back to bed, he was far too tense to sleep.

‘Sam what are you doing? It's 4 o'clock in the morning come back to bed’.

Sam looked up to see Jess, he was so distracted he had not even heard her enter the room. ‘I can't Jess, I have work to do’.

‘Oh’, Jess murmured walking over to him as the soft orange light from their bedroom shone through the sheer material of her short night slip, outlining her beautiful body and highlighting her golden hair with burnished bronze tones. ‘hmmm, very important work I see’, Jess leant forward enveloping him in her scent, ‘so your work involves staring at a blank computer screen at this hour?'

Sam closed the laptop and sighed. ‘I couldn't sleep, I didn't want to wake you, so I thought I would get some work done’.

‘Well that doesn't seem to be going to well… Sam, are you sure your alright? You've been tense all day, is this about that business with your car?’.

‘No it's not about that, I'm not tense’, he rubbed his forehead, ‘okay maybe I am, it's just this case I'm working on’. Jess kissed his forehead where he'd been rubbing, soothing his tension slightly.

‘I know you can't discuss your cases with me Sam but I'm sure you’ll crack whatever it is that’s giving you problems, you always do’. Jess sat on Sam's lap and rubbed his shoulders, ‘did you forget that I have to leave on a business trip in a few hours?’

‘No, that's why I didn't want to wake you’.

‘Well thanks for the consideration, but rolling over and finding you gone woke me up anyway. You should come back to bed and make it up to me’ she purred in his ear running her hand down the side of his face to his mouth.

He kissed the soft palm of her hand, tugging her forward, pushing up her thin red lingerie slip and running his tongue down her body until he was tasting in between her thighs, taking her with his tongue and listening to her soft moans and cries as she neared climax.

‘Sam, I want to come with you inside me’ she moaned twisting her hands in his hair and tugging at his shoulders until he stood up lifting her in his arms and carrying her back to their bedroom. She was ready for him and he pushed inside her, kissing her and burying his face in her golden hair, setting a fast demanding pace as she wrapped her perfect legs around his waist.

‘Sam god, Sam, ‘I'm going to come’ she sobbed.

‘Not yet' he commanded, ‘wait for me'.

‘I can't’ she cried as he lifted her so she was straddling him as he knelt on the bed, her arms and legs wrapped around him as she was coming for him crying out his name. He held her still for a moment staying deep inside her, feeling the tremors and aftershocks that ran through her, then lay her on the bed kissing her slowly as she went soft and pliant in his arms and he buried himself in her over and over again.

He wanted to drive Jess to the airport, to keep his mind off other things if nothing else, but her firm had sent a limo, and Jessica's assistant, client, and various others were all inside waiting to start work on the ride over to the airport.

Sam helped Jess put her luggage in the trunk waving the driver away, and Jess hugged him as he held her and breathed in her perfume wondering why this wasn't enough anymore when it had always brought him peace in the past.

Jess kissed him long and hard, ‘‘to wipe that expression of his face’’ and smiled at him murmuring, ‘mmm, you're going to miss me’.

‘Yes' he replied simply because he would. He always did.

‘I might even miss you when I'm all alone, naked in that big motel bed' she husked, rubbing against him a little, ‘then again maybe they'll have Muppet flicks on demand and a fully stocked mini bar and I'll be just fine without you‘’.

He kissed her; capturing that smile with his lips.

Jess moved slightly back from him and touched her invisible Bluetooth headset. ‘Yes, what is it Leanne?’

‘Ms Moore’, Jessica's assistant came rushing up to them, ‘I'm so sorry to interrupt’ she blurted out, her face flushing as she realised she looked ridiculous speaking into the phone when Jess was right in front of her.

Sam's eyes narrowed noting her flushed face as her eyes darted between the two of them. She'd obviously come charging over with no purpose other than to interrupt. The sort of thing in his observation someone did when they wanted their boss to be kissing them instead. It wouldn't be the first assistant of Jessica's that wanted her, _but he damn sure had plans to make sure it was the last_.

‘Um, Ms Moore we have-

‘-I know, I know, lot's to do, but jeez, can't I make out with my super hot husband in peace?’ Jess smiled at Sam and then fixed her assistant with her million dollar smile as the assistant's face went from flushed to deep scarlet. ‘We're making good time, you sent the limo an hour earlier, than half hour early we were already running, so in reality, we have like an hour and a half before we even have to think about leaving’.

‘I know Ms Moore, but we have to plan for contingencies’.

‘Like quad bike pile-up on the interstate or aliens landing, or the distinct possibility that some kind of irritating time-wasting situation can and will occur at the airport?’

‘Exactly, anything's possible Mame, I just like to be prepared’.

Jess shuddered from head to toe, ‘how many times do I have to ask you not to call me Mame, I'm not even thirty yet, give me a break will you!’.

‘I'm sorry Mame, I er, Ms Moore'.

‘I keep telling you the name is Jess, J-e-s-s, now please stop with all this silly Mame business'.

‘Yes Mame, I mean no Mame, I mean Ms’, the assistant shot a nervous look in Sam's direction and continued hurriedly, ‘I appreciate that we're very early Mame- er _Ms Jess_ but-

‘-Okay, now I'm going to need you to take a deep breath and de-stress, we're going on a book tour Leanne, not curing world hunger. Now please just give me one minute here, because in case I didn't mention it, my husband is hot and I want to make out with him a little more before I leave, is that okay with you?’

‘Of course Mame, I- er-, Jess, I mean it's none of my business’ the assistant stammered, practically diving back into the car as Sam pinned her with a stare that had undone many a witness on the stand.

‘Sam’ Jess hissed pulling his gaze back to her, ‘are you putting the fear of god into my assistant again?’

‘That was _one_ conversation and I would hardly classify it as ‘‘putting the fear of god into her’’. I simply pointed out that as your assistant she had certain duties and responsibilities-

‘-Sam she forgot to get me a latte one morning. That hardly warranted you nearly making her wet herself in terror’.

‘That depends on your perspective, a missed cup of coffee one day, is a missed file the next, and a lost client the day after that. In short, it is far wiser to stamp out incompetence the moment it rears its ugly head then to allow it breed’.

‘Good god you're ruthless and terrifying when you start talking like that’. Jess pulled Sam closer and kissed him murmuring, ‘do you think it makes me a bad person that it gets me all hot?’ against his lips.

‘I don't see how’.

‘Now you need to promise me that you are going to lay off my assistant Sam’ she whispered, using her considerable powers of persuasion over him as she ran her hands over his broad shoulders and kissed him again. ‘ _I_ might think it's hot when you come over all ruthless and domineering but I can pretty much guarantee the only thing that poor girl is going to find it is terrifying. You should have seen that state she was in after you had your “little chat” with her, _I practically had to talk her down off a ledge_ , so no more fear of god rhetoric are we clear Mr. lawyer?’

‘Jess I have been doing no such thing as frightening your little assistant, and for the record I don't have a problem with her; and so long as she strives to achieve the level of basic professional competence she is presently sorely lacking and manages not to become overly familiar with you like your last assistant, I don't foresee any problems in the future either’.

‘Jamie was _not_ in love with me Sam’, Jess sighed exasperatedly ‘how many times do I have to tell you that?’

‘It doesn't matter how many times you tell me it won't change the glaringly obvious truth that he was, in fact, _hopelessly in love with you;_ but let us agree to disagree if it makes you feel better'.

 _‘He had a girlfriend_ _Sam_ , he could barely stop talking about her, she was the one he was hopelessly in love with not me’.

‘Is that so? Well, I must say that changes everything; unless of course, it has happened before in the history of human events that a male has had feelings for two different women at the same time. -Oh wait, it happens every day, to the extent that it could be called perfectly commonplace, and never more so than when dealing with a sweaty, hormonally challenged boy.’

‘He was 21 Sam, _hardly a boy’._

‘He was a kid fresh from college whose eyes were on stalks from the moment he saw you; and even if I accept for argument's sake that his alleged girlfriend was not a fabrication intended to draw suspicion away from his unhealthy obsession with another man's wife, I feel sure that any girlfriend he might have had, fictitious or not, would have paled into insignificance in comparison with you, and in no way lessened his unacceptable desire to have you for himself.

Jess shook her head slowly and smiled. ‘What am I going to do with you Sam, I mean there you go again, most women would think that was the sweetest compliment in the world; but somehow, coming out of your mouth with that Mr. lawyer tone and that expression on your face, it's more of a condemnation than a complement’.

Sam pulled Jess up against his hard body and kissed her, ‘I condemn nothing’, his deep voice dropped a dark octave, ‘you can hardly be blamed for that boy's infatuation, you can't help being beautiful, it's who you are’.

‘You're going to have to stop with the backhanded compliments’ Jess smiled, kissing him back, ‘or I might just start getting conceited’.

‘All I am saying is you can hardly expect to get the level of professional support you need when your assistant is a hormonally challenged boy panting after you’.

‘Now you're just exaggerating!’

‘Am I? -Jessica, that boy could barely liberate his hand from his pants in your presence’.

‘Oh for heaven’s sake! _That’s ridiculous_ ; and you know what Mr Lawyer, I still suspect you of having something to do with Jamie suddenly getting headhunted for that new job’.

‘I can hardly be blamed if an offer of more lucrative employment came along’.

Jess narrowed her beautiful eyes at him, ‘well so long as my current assistant doesn't go the way the old one did I might consider believing you’.

He shrugged but said nothing because he knew for a fact her current assistant would most _certainly_ go the same way as the old one did, _he had made sure of it_.

This _Leanne_ was clearly even more infatuated with his wife than her former assistant had been. _He_ at least had the good sense to try and keep his obvious fawning over Jess under some semblance of control. _He'd failed, of course;_ but he had tried to do his job regardless of being hopelessly in love with his boss. This new assistant, however, hadn't even mastered _faking_ professionalism never mind actually attaining it.

He could read Leanne like a witness lying on the stand; and while her stammering, and awkwardness around Jess could arguably be attributed to her being “a nervous young intern” as Jess said, the constant staring, blushing, increased breathing, and on at least two occasions he'd witnessed actual pupil dilation when their hands touched as she handed Jess a file, were definite signs of sexual attraction; and he wasn't a the kind of fool to allow to let it slide because she was a woman either. In short, Jessica was _his_ wife _she could go find her own_.

Fortunately, he knew how to remedy this particular ridiculous situation, and he had already taken the necessary steps by headhunting the best PA at the Public relations firm that fancied itself as a rival to his wife's. At 31, Jerry Macan was older than he and Jess, extensively qualified, ruthlessly efficient, and as an added bonus he was resolutely homosexual with a live-in partner of 5 years to whom he'd recently become engaged.

‘I'm sure it will all work out’ he murmured to Jess as she leant in and kissed him again. He noted her assistant practically had her nose pressed up against the glass watching them in a way that made it patently clear she wanted to be in his position. _The sooner he got rid of her and got his wife a real assistant rather than some intern with a crush the better_.

He opened the door and helped Jess into the car while her assistant tried and failed not to stare at her legs as her chic knee length dark crimson dress slid up a little while she arranged herself elegantly in the back seat of the limo.

**_The assistant had another week at most_.**

‘Don't scare your staff while I'm gone Sam’ Jess smiled, kissing him and whispering ‘see you soon, miss you’ in his ear before he closed the limo door watching Jess drive away for a moment before he returned to their house.

As always the place seemed sprawling and empty without her there to fill it with her laughter and he thought about what she said to him about not scaring his staff while she was gone. His staff often complained that he was difficult to work for at the best of times, always demanding perfection and holding everyone up to an impossible standard; and according to them when Jess left on one of her frequent business trips he went from difficult to downright unbearable.

_He supposed it was just as well that he didn't care less._


	7. Haze

He prepared to throw himself into work as he always did when Jess wasn't around to distract him, but it was slow and troublesome, and things he could usually fly through with practised ease and perfection became laborious.

 _He was thinking about that man,_ his thoughts were fixated on him, the need to find him was inexplicably clawing away at his insides making it impossible for him to work.

He called his investigator but the call went straight to voicemail, this was not unexpected if he was deep in surveillance but it didn't help him in his current predicament as he ended the call. The reality was there would be no new information until his investigator contacted him with the man’s location. Until then _he had work to do._

He had been working away solidly at his desk for hours, the investigator would be here with his report soon and as the light grew dimmer with evenings approach he found it harder and harder to concentrate no matter how much he forced himself to focus.

At some point, his head had started to ache, and as it got darker the pain in his head intensified to the point where he was forced to take a break.

He was completely unaccustomed to such a sudden onslaught of aches and pains in his head or anywhere else as he massaged his temples slowly. It had little effect and finding no relief he remembered that Jess had offered to bring him an aspirin when it seemed as if he were going to get a headache yesterday. Aspirin right, Jess had to keep some around here somewhere, he just had to find it. He had never needed it before, as Jess said, he was never sick, but he felt like he needed it now, he could only hope that it worked as it felt like his head was going to break open and bleed raw pain.

The bathroom cabinet, right? that was the most logical place to start looking, maybe if he took one _or several_ …

The pain kicked up another excruciating notch without warning, lancing through his head as if searing into his brain and his legs began to give way. Something wasn't right, he couldn't see straight, his vision was hazy, fading in and out, images were overlapping, he couldn't see straight in front of him, what was wrong with him?

He doubled over in pain clasping on to the wall, trying to stay upright as images flashed painfully in front of his eyes faster and faster, tripping over each other until he wanted to scream.

He began to slide to the floor, trying desperately to pull himself upright but the pain slicing into the back of his eyes made him cry out loudly as a single image seared into his vision clear and sharp.

 _ **Blood.**_ There was blood, it was dripping... it was dripping down someone's face… it was warm, he could feel it, he could _smell_ it. Was it his face? Was the blood dripping down his face? ...him, but not him? It made no sense.

He was somewhere…else, it was dirty, dusty, and he could smell the stench around him like a filthy urinal, thick and acrid, clogging his nose and choking him. Beer, sweat, stale cigarettes, he could see the dirt caked onto the stone floor as the image before him became dark, fading to a single spot of blood splashing onto the dirty floor then flaring out, blindingly hot and intense, the blood glowing a flaming vibrant crimson, burning his eyes like fire until he couldn't see a thing, until blinding white hot pain was searing into his eyes, splintering and tearing inside his head as he doubled up in agony, clasping his forehead desperately and slamming his eyes shut against the blinding light in his head.

His eyes were closed tight, as he fought to breathe unfamiliar panic assailing him as he realised that he could still see as if his eyes were wide open and someone was sticking sharp pins of bright hot pain into his vision.

Someone was crying out, he could hear muffled grunts of pain, laughter, shouts and jeers, and he could feel his blood pumping as if it were flowing from his body as pain exploded across his face and cheek bone as if he had been struck. His head whipped back as a crushing pain in the back of his head blurred his vision and everything faded into black as he could no longer hold himself up and collapsed forward, but he fell to soft carpet not cracked concrete caked in filth. What was this? he was in his own hallway, but he was another place as well, he was seeing two different things at once, what was real? Was it the cold filthy concrete floor or the soft carpeted hallway? … his head was torn in two, the taste of his own hot salty blood flowing into his mouth from his own bleeding nose was real, but he could feel blood flowing from a cut to his head that wasn't there when he frantically felt for it.

The air rushed from his lungs his voice strangled as he cried out in pain dragging himself forward, feeling the pain of being struck with fists and boots and weapons, but no one was here _he was alone,_ yet he could hear his attackers, jeering each other on, he could hear their crude comments, he could feel their sick intent as they touched him, and as he was dragged to his feet, he could hear the loud clattering noise as something fell to the rough concrete ground and broke as he was thrown forward, the air rushing from his lungs as he collided with something hard, -but it wasn't him. It wasn't him this was happening to, he was laying on the floor in his home, right? The carpet/the concrete, _what was going on_ , what was real? What was happening to him, why was he seeing this? What was he seeing and hearing, _what was this?_

The jeering and shouting becoming louder and more violent as he was wrenched on to his back by violent hands, -that loud clattering smashing sound again, he recognised it, the sound of something plastic smashing against a hard floor and breaking, like someone dropping a cell-phone on a hard floor, the impact causing the phone casing and battery to break apart. His vision suddenly wavered, dark and hazy as new blows were doubling him over in pain. Someone was attacking him again but he couldn't see them, the blood rushed to his head as if he were being hung upside down and his eyes opened as blood poured from his mouth, but was it his mouth? Blood seeped into his eyes blurring his vision, stinging, his eyes. _His_   _eyes?_ He didn't even know anymore, _he didn't know what was real._

The sounds and images were fading but the pain had become so unbearable his body was spiking with adrenaline and shaking uncontrollably, yet he felt distant, as if he was getting weaker, and as everything faded to black, he saw it on the dirty rough stone ground, saw it through the haze of blood and pain and his eyes flew open. _He would recognise that piece of outdated junk anywhere._

**It was the man's phone.**

Was he dreaming? Was he having another bad dream? was he dreaming that the man was in trouble…

No he was awake, _this wasn't a bad dream_ , it was something else, like the feeling he had in coffee house when he accidentally spilled his blood on the man's picture, but a thousand times worse, a thousand times more intense the same message flashing loud and bright into his mind now as it had then.

_something was wrong_

**_Something was wrong_ **

**_SOMETHING WAS WRONG_ **

He wiped the blood off his face and struggled to get to the bathroom, the reflection of his eyes in the mirror wild and dark as intense pain crashed into his head, images assailing him, concrete, dirt, blood clear and bright red fading to puddles of darkness. His legs gave way as he tried to hold onto the wash basin, sliding helplessly to the floor and trying not to throw up as the pain became unbearable; letters, reflections and images slicing into the back of his eyes making him cry out with the excruciating pain.

He dragged himself across to the bath edge, using it to pull himself up, forcing himself to focus through the pain and nausea because _something was familiar. Something_  he saw in the dark puddles on the ground, not blood now but dark water, that reflected like clear black glass. He focused on it as he hauled himself to his feet, staggering to his study, ignoring the blood pouring from his nose and getting on the expensive carpet as he struggled to his desk, emptying the contents of the investigative report on it.

The images were warped and twisted and jumbled up in his head but he had seen it somewhere before, one of the images in his head, he had seen it before, _here right here_ , it was the building the man had been photographed leaving, the abandoned warehouse there was no explanation for him visiting.

The warped metal bars over the broken windows, it was impossible but it was happening, he was seeing it in his head as if he were there.

This building was near where he had met the man. He had been photographed leaving there, and now he was somehow _seeing_ him there.

Nothing had made sense since that man had come into his life, yet no matter how crazy it seemed, he knew what his instincts, what _everything_ in him was _screaming_ at him to do

_He had to go to that place and he had to go **right** **now**._


	8. Instinct

His nose had stopped bleeding, the pain in his head was fading and he was wondering if he was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown.

He had the address of the building from the investigators report, he could call the authorities... _and tell them... what?_ That he'd just had a _vision_ that a man he didn't know might be in danger in a place he had never been! -And even if they were actually inclined to believe such a story which, of course, they wouldn't be, he could very well be rescuing the man from one dangerous situation just to put him another.

The man was guilty of numerous charges of credit card fraud, off the grid, and clearly on the run. Just because the police didn’t have a warrant out for his arrest, didn’t mean the word had not been put out to them by whoever he was running from.

If he called the cops and left an anonymous tip, one of the many corrupt, rat bastard officers who he knew used their badge for extortion, witness intimidation, and occasionally legalised murder, would sell the man out to the very people he was likely running from, and the man would be missing or dead before he ever saw the inside of a cell.

 _No, the last people he needed finding the man in this situation were the damn police_.

He would call some of his firm's Private Investigators instead, they could meet him there; but as he reaching for the phone, his instinct was suddenly slamming a warning into his gut so sharply he was doubling over in pain.

_The warning was harsh and clear._

_**Don't call anyone.**_  
**_DON'T TRUST ANYBODY._**

his instincts were screaming around in his skull, seeping like acid into his brain, burning and scorching, another warning into him hard and fast,

**_ Something was wrong. _ **   
**_ Something was terribly wrong. _ **

_He had to leave **NOW!** _There was no time!_ He was going to have to go alone._

He wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand and searched for his keys, momentarily surprised to find the smooth keyless cube was in his pocket… his new car had been delivered already? It was early evening so yes they should have delivered it by now, _but he didn't remember signing for it_ , or putting the keys in his pocket, _he never forgot anything, **what the hell was happening to him -**_ he grabbed his head moaning low as pain ripped through him, the warning intensifying until his eyes started to burn.

**_ Danger. _ **   
**_ DANGER. _ **

He kept a gun… in the draw, Jess hated it, but he kept it anyway.

Pain coursed through his body, kicking into his brain, and lurching into his gut as he suddenly felt sick to his stomach, felt like people were touching him… using him, but it wasn’t him, wasn’t his body being groped and used, _but he knew what that meant was happening_ , he could feel it as the attack begun anew.

Rage at what was happening was surging through his body, propelling him forward as he stumbled to the desk, where was the damn key? He didn’t remember, damn it, he never forgot things! -The sick feeling inside him was intensifying, swirling around in the pit of his stomach until he was fighting the urge to throw up, he could hear the sick jeering, the disgusting smell of sweat, mould, dirt, and filthy urinal clogging his nose, making it hard for him to breathe as he kicked over the desk, stamping at the underside of the draw, cursing that it was so well made as he desperately tried to break through, feeling the horrible wet sensation of liquid dripping off his back, down his thighs, as the group of men prodded and poked at him, egging each other on to greater violence, as he finally broke through the strong wood and reached for the gun box thankful that it wasn’t locked.

His flesh was crawling everywhere they were touching him, but it wasn’t him being touched, he had to focus, it felt real, but it wasn't his mouth they were… not his body... -that smell, what was that? _Alcohol_? Were they pouring spirits over him? Why?

He gritted his teeth, sharply sucking in his breath, the cheap rancid alcohol stinging as it seeped into his open cuts. _They were doing it to torture the man._  

He shook with adrenaline and rage as he grabbed the gun, feeling the man shaking in pain as they abused and taunted him.

The sudden sharp pain, of being kicked in the ribs made his stomach lurch as he fought the bile back down his throat, his always steady hands shaking, barely able to hold the gun he was trying to load as he was feeling every vicious blow as if it were happening to him; ‘load the clip’, he hissed forcing himself to stay in control, _to focus_ ‘pull back the slide, chamber the bullet, safety off-

A splintering blow to the head had him almost blacking out... The man, he was was fading in and out of consciousness, everything was blurred, unfocused, fading in and out of view as he raced to the garage, every instinct in him on fire as the attack became frenzied, fists and heavy boots, striking anywhere they could reach.

Adrenaline began pumping through him until he was shaking uncontrollably, as if he were in the one being beaten, as if the wrenching sensation from them forcibly shoving his legs wider apart was happening to him, _if he didn’t hurry the man would be_ …

He jumped into the car, gunning the engine into life, quickly glancing at the fuel gauge relieved to find it had been delivered with a full tank of gas, as he backed out of the garage and peeled out of the driveway.

He was speeding, going recklessly fast to a dangerous part of town because he had a migraine, and probably a seizure with flashing images. He was probably having a mental collapse… and yet he wasn't turning back, _because he couldn't breathe_ , he was tense, coiled, desperate, **_if he didn't hurry something terrible was about to happen._**

It was in their every foul touch, every cruel jeer, they had something even worse than what they were already doing planned for the man, **_something he wouldn’t survive._**

He bought the car to a screeching halt or rather instinct had him slamming his foot on the brakes, flinging the car into the first space and racing towards the building. He knew where he was going not because the darkened street was familiar to him but because he could feel it, he could _**feel**_ his connection to the man being violated and brutalised as he ran into the dark alley, he could feel the man fading as he desperately kicked down the thin metal panel door, racing up the worn concrete steps as the sounds of drunken laughter became louder.

‘More give the pretty fucker more’.

‘Yeah you know he likes it… Damn, I think you hit him too hard, he ain't moving’. 

‘Well he should have given it to me for free like I told him, just because the fucker thinks he's pretty’.

‘Get away from him’ he ordered, his voice cold steel. He was an excellent shot he practised at the range three times a week, it was the way he relieved stress; and killing these men would relieve his current stress like nothing else, because they had touched, they had taken, they had beaten and abused. He dealt with men like them every day, they were scum, a lower class of life, _the world would not miss them_.

‘Listen to me very carefully, you have two choices. One, you leave now; or two, I shoot you; and make no mistake, I will shoot you and I will get away with it. No one is going to put too much effort into investigating the deaths of assorted pieces of trash like you. You'll be forgotten long before your blood and grey matter has a chance to dry on the wall I'm about to splatter your collective excuses for brains all over; so what's it going to be?’

The men looked at him as if something about the situation could be regarded as funny, and his instinct kicked in _hard._

**_ There was one behind him he hadn't seen. _ **

In the split second it took for him to realise his mistake, it was too late, the one behind him was grabbing his gun arm before he had a chance to shoot, _**and they pounced like feral jackals** , _ attacking and wrestling the gun from him. _**He should have shot first** , _but his only thought had been to make them _**stop**  _attaching the man. 

He fought to keep control of the gun as the smaller thug he recognised from the vision charged him and he kicked him hard in the midsection putting him down, another three converging on him, wrenching his arms behind his back, the gun lost as they held him so the pathetic weaker man could drag himself up and work him over. He lashed out with another hard kick to the coward's stomach making him double over and wretch while his scumbag associates laughed. The coward straightened up, retribution in his dull grey eyes and he took advantage of their laughter to attack.

He never had time to see the blade or know which one of them stuck it into him, only that his adrenaline was going into overdrive so he barely felt it as he fought harder, but the wound was very deep, blood pumping out of it in torrents. Suddenly it hurt, the sudden violent blood loss and sickening pain feeling like the knife had punctured something vital, and he was going down, a tide of pain and weakness all but paralysing him, even as his adrenaline spiked again and he fought harder, trying to get away from the muzzle of his own gun that was suddenly digging painfully into the side of his head, as he was striking out, smashing his fists and feet into anything he could reach, but it was useless, there were too many of them; drunk, high, and loving the sudden bout of fresh violence, _this was all a sick game to them._

‘I don’t know who you are, -Jessica's beautiful face flashed into his mind as they overpowered him forcing him to the floor- ‘but you made the biggest mistake of your dumb life coming here and trying to fuck with us’.

The man still wasn't moving, he had to get to him, _he had to_ - 

The man he vaguely recognised from the blurred images of the vision as the sadistic ringleader of this group of assorted human effluent crouched down dangling a gun in front of him, his vacant dull blue eyes roaming his face and following his line of vision as he thrashed and struggled against the scum restraining him. ‘-Oh that pretty bitch over there belong to you, is that was this is about? You know he's a lot of fun once you beat the smart ass out of him, break him down real nice and obedient. well I was getting there anyway, and then he had to get all macho and start fighting back instead of giving it to me, to all of us, like a good pretty-boy whore should, and then you show up, and I'm thinking I've had enough of this shit’. 

He couldn't die, _he had to save him._

‘You want money don't you?’ he grated out over the pain, ‘I have money, just give that man over there to me and you can name your price’. He could feel his blood pumping out of him in harder faster torrents, _he was running out of time,_ he had to make them agree to a deal **fast** , he had to fix this, to save the man. Scum like this were always looking for a pay day to get wasted, it was the only thing that mattered in their miserable excuse for lives. He was betting they would take the money, it was easier than having bodies to clean up.

‘You fucking rich people’ the leader spat, ‘always thinking you can buy everybody, well sorry pal not today. I don’t like loose ends, we let you go and you rat us out, and whatever happens then will be nothing compared to what the boss will do’. 

‘Whoever this boss is he doesn't have to know, it can be just between us, all you have to do is-

**_ -Even as it was happening, he knew the sudden explosion of loud pain was the bullet tearing through his temple. _ **


	9. Jungle

Sam shouted out in excruciating pain, clutching his head as the vision faded and he was alone in his car clasping his gun.

What the hell was that! What just happened… _did he just... **see his own death?** _  

He could still feel his anger and pain as the bullet tore through his skull, he could still remember his last thoughts, Jess… the man... he hadn't been able to save him, they were both going to die because he had failed, then the bullet obliterating his thoughts as it tore into his brain...  _He **had** seen his own death..._ but **how?** -He couldn't think about it now, there was no time. Right now the _how_ was far less important than _what_ of the things he had seen.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus. There had to be a way to change it, right? A way to succeed this time. Okay so if he charged in recklessly he died, he had seen it, and he wasn't going to question that, _not now_ , instead he was going to trust the instincts that had never steered him wrong before.

He felt surprisingly calm as he tightened his grip on his gun and quietly exited the car, hurrying as quickly and silently as he could into the building.

The light was so dim it was practically darkness, yet he knew his way up the stairs by _feel alone,_ it was insanity but if he took a wrong turn the feeling of pain in his head intensified, it was like a bizarre game of hot and cold. He worked with the strange feelings as best he could and made his way to the fourth floor.

He glanced into the room, it was large and he recognised it as the place he had **_died_** in the vision, recognised the very spot the bullet had exploded into his skull. He forced himself to breathe deeply, he couldn't afford to lose focus. There was a figure lying on the floor; even if the other man weren't standing over him he knew it was the man, _and he wasn't moving_ .

‘I think you hit him too hard man, he ain't moving’.

The largest man attacked the man laying on the floor stamping and kicking until the smaller man with him tried to pull him back.

‘Hey hey take it easy, not the face! the boss likes him pretty. He's taken a real interest in this one for some reason,  if you fuck up his face the boss will be mad’.

‘Well he should have given it to me for free like I told him too, just because the fuckers pretty thinks I'm gonna pay him for it’.

‘Yeah well, we should get out of here leave him to the boss he's the one who wants him’.

‘Yeah you're right, _fuck him,_ plenty more pretty bitches were he came from’.

‘Maybe not _that_ pretty’.

‘But at least they know their place, under my cock’.

‘He got anything besides his pretty ass worth taking at least?'

The smaller man rifled through the man's pockets, ‘well we already took his gun and knife, all he's got now is this piece of shit photo of some woman and two kids, huh, bitch kinda looks like him, aww, you think it's his mommy? She's kinda hot, I'd fuck that real good. Lemme see what else we got. A few lousy credit cards I bet he ripped off since they all got different names on em, fuckers literally got 10 bucks cash in his wallet and you couldn't even get a buck for that piece of shit phone even if it weren't all busted up’.

‘Better leave the cards, I bet the boss is gonna fuck him up bad, and we don't want the cards coming back to us when they find his fucked up corpse floating in the river, take the 10 bucks though it can buy us a few cheap beers at least’.

‘And maybe one of them really, _really_ cheap hookers in the park, you know the ones who will blow you for a pack of jerky and some smokes’.

The men standing around the two main men who were doing all the talking, laughed like the situation was hilarious as the largest scumbag spat and kicked at the man on the floor ‘Piece of pretty boy shit’.

He winced as he heard the dull thud of a boot connecting with flesh again and again, and he was fighting with the need to stop them, _to make them pay,_ but he knew what would happen if he didn't remain hidden, so he forced himself to stay still, changing his position to hide deeper in the shadows as the men headed towards the exit laughing and joking.

He edged along the wall keeping out of sight as the group of scum headed for the stairs talking about what they wanted to eat like it was nothing, like they had not beaten the man unconscious and left him to die. _He wanted to put a bullet in each of their heads like they would have done to him,_  instead, he gritted his teeth staying out of sight, gripping the gun tightly, waiting for their voices fade away signalling it was safe to move.

He looked over at the man laying unmoving on the floor counting down the seconds until he could get to him. He'd felt what they did to him, and now he'd heard what the ringleader said about how the man should have given it to him for free. He knew the man only ever used the credit cards he hacked to pay for multiple accommodations, was this how he paid for food and clothing? He'd visited this place twice this week... Did the man who had been good enough to risk himself to help him, a total stranger and asked for no reward have such a dire financial situation he was _selling himself..._

-But why to these scumbags? The man was beautiful, he could easily have his pick of rich clients who would pay him well for his face and the use of his body, so why come to a condemned building to sell himself to lowlife scum who clearly couldn't afford him even if they were willing to pay? ... Maybe he'd didn't have a choice, maybe he owed money, whatever the situation, things had clearly gone very wrong when the assorted scum thought gang-rape should be part of the deal, and when the man had put a fight they had brutally attacked him and left him to die at the hands of their Boss.

The scumbag ringleader said this Boss wanted the man, liked him pretty, would leave his fucked up corpse in the river when he was done. They had also been more afraid of failing to deliver the man to this boss than of him shooting each of them in the head. Meaning this boss was the one pulling the strings and he had allowed his thugs to beat the man to hell before turning the man over to him. Whatever deal the man thought he was brokering he had walked into a trap, the whole thing had been a setup from the start, _the man was never leaving here alive._

First step, get the man out of here,  take him someplace safe where he could get medical attention. Second, find out who this ‘‘Boss’’ was and use his considerable resources to make sure he  ** _never_** laid a hand on the man.

They were still in the building, but judging from the distance of their voices they were at least a floor down now, meaning he had enough time to get out sight if one or more of them headed back this way. He crouched low and moved forward quickly aiming his gun and looking around and behind him, but they hadn't seen him this time, _this time,_ **the situation was insane** , but he had no choice but to go along with it and follow his instincts,  _he had to save the man._

He reached him immediately checking for his pulse, and the moment he touched him,  he felt alive, awake, tense and at peace at the same time, he had him, _he had him._  

He was relieved to find his pulse, it was slow but steady and he was breathing. He turned him over and tried to bring him round because this would be easier if he could stand, but it was no use, he was out cold. He would have to carry him, and he tried to ignore the sudden intense pounding in his chest, because his instinct might be going into overdrive about finding the man, but his pragmatic nature knew that if finding him had been one difficult, dangerous, and bizarre thing then getting him out of here was likely to be another. 

He pulled the man up and felt relief wash over him… felt the rightness of this simple contact as the pain in his head faded completely. He quickly gathered the man's belongings and put them in his own jacket, he even hurriedly picked up broken the pieces of his ridiculously obsolete phone, one to remove evidence, and two because without it, he may not have understood what he was seeing when the vision all but blinded him.

He picked the man up and arranged him as best he could over his shoulder making sure he could still hold and operate the gun. He didn't want to get into a shootout. For one thing, he had no way of knowing how many scum bags were scattered through the condemned building cracking out, and two the odds of their survival in a confrontation drastically diminished, but he had to move quickly because his supercar was unlikely to go unnoticed for long if the last time was any indication and it was their only means of escape.

Their voices were still loud and he knew helplessness liked he'd never know in his life before as he counted the seconds, waiting as the attackers leisurely made their way laughing and joking down the floor flights of stairs. He couldn't afford to be heard or seen by them or anyone else, he had to make sure they had left the building and were on their way so he could make a quick unseen exit. He started towards the stairwell listening to their raucous swearing and laughter as they finally left the building

He moved quickly but cautiously then froze at the sudden feeling of dread lancing through him as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.  **Someone was here** , maybe they had come back to help the man their conscious finally emerging, _but it was more likely they were coming back to finish the job._

He had to hurry, it could be the lowlifes returning or this ‘‘Boss’’ arriving with even more scum in tow looking for sick violent entertainment, and their only means of quick escape- his expensive Super Car- wouldn't be safe here for long, he regretted bringing it but there hadn't been time for anything else, and what were the odds he could have got a taxi to bring him to this part of town at night, yet alone wait for him with the meter running.

He looked around but it was useless, he knew there was no other way out of here, this place didn't even have roof access, the fire escape had been damaged and never fixed since the building was abandoned. The only way out was through the door, and the gun might be their only hope of getting there.

He still had the element of surprise. Whoever was coming thought the man was upstairs laying unconscious, if it came to it he knew what he had to do, It was the only chance they had.

He hurried quietly down a flight of stairs,  and hid in the shadows of the landing, it was humid and he was starting to sweat hard as he adjusted the man's weight over his shoulder and checked his surroundings thankful his eyes had fully adjusted to the dim light. All clear. Okay three more flights and- he froze as an insane looking bearded man just literally _appeared_ from the shadows standing in the darkened stairwell watching him intently.

‘Well lookie what we have here’ he drawled amused. 'I got a call saying there was some cheap fun here with this sweet piece of hunter ass I've been wanting for a while and you seem to be running away with it’. The man whistled through his nicotine stained teeth, ‘whoo _even prettier bleeding like that,_ he still alive? or you one of them freaks who don't mind banging em if they dead long so long as they still nice n warm?’

The man leered at him in a way that made his flesh crawl, ‘doubt you'd go to all this trouble to haul a corpse outta here though so I'm assuming the pretty boy I was promised is alive, so here's what you gonna do. You're gonna put him down on that there landing so's I can have my fun with him right here right now. If you do that nice and easy I'm only gonna tear your face off, I'm not even gonna eat parts of you real slow while you watch or anything’.

The man was clearly as insane as he looked, _and he was in his way_. 'Move' his tone was deadly as he pointed the gun directly at man's face,  ‘I won't ask again’.  _The man was clearly high,_ the jet black pupils of his eyes so dilated he couldn't even see any whites as he kept flicking his hand at him, actually looking surprised when nothing happened.

 _He didn't have time for this obvious insanity,_ the man over his shoulder needed medical attention, the scum in front of him was in the way, _and he intended to hurt the man he was trying to save._ He squeezed the trigger, but the man was _gone_ in the instant it took him to tighten the pressure on the trigger the man had vanished. _That wasn't possible_

He looked around quickly, finger tight on the trigger ready to fire. He could smell something vile to the side of him, something like rotting eggs, and his head whipped round as the crazy man appeared directly in front of his face. He tried to adjust so he could get a shot off, but the angle was wrong, his right shoulder close to the man's chin, his outstretched arm aiming the gun at wall.

‘It _can't_  be’ the creepiest vagrant he had ever seen in his life exclaimed, staring at him open mouthed, his eyes crazy with drugs as he kept flicking his hand at him,  ‘it just can't be… _you_... why would you be here of all places when so many have looked for so long?’

He shifted his weight onto his right foot using the man's drug-induced fascination with him to manoeuvre him slightly so his back was towards the stairwell.

‘No one is going to believe me unless I bring you to-

-He seized the moment as the drug addled maniac rambled on distracted, using the awkward position to his advantage, twisting away then ramming his full weight into the crazy man knocking him back down the stairs mid-sentence. 

The mad man tumbled hard down the rough damaged stairs, hitting the landing below with the sickening crack of bone impacting and snapping against concrete, his body laying motionless and twisted grotesquely like a dirty broken rag doll.

The corner the mad man landed in was so dark he could barely make out the crumpled form well enough to tell if the man was dead or just badly injured, he could shoot now, but the loud noise of a gunshot echoing through the abandoned stairwell would alert others reducing their chances of survival.

He probably should be panicking, but he wasn't, in fact, he found he was eerily calm as he clinically assessed the situation, with his usual fast ruthless efficiency. After the fall and landing the crazy man hadn't moved, he could check for a pulse but it would be risky, far better to use the opportunity to neutralise the threat.

If he acted quickly he could get close enough to use the gun at point blank range muffling the sound against the mad man's thick dirty looking clothing, but he would have to bend low to do it, and with the man he was trying to save still over his shoulder it would be difficult to get close enough to get the shot off and even then there was no guarantee it would go silently.

He could put the man down for a moment and make sure the crazy man stayed down permanently, he had the physical strength to do what was necessary,  what he didn't have was definitive experience, a broken neck seemed the most plausible and efficient solution, but was breaking a neck in reality a complicated process?

His other option, suffocation, would likely involve a struggle and he had nothing that would suffice to smoother the crazy man with, which would force him to use his bare hands, this method would leave a lot more than circumstantial evidence behind and would likely be time-consuming, time they didn't have.

His every instinct was to kill the scum in front of him,  but his best option was to keep the man over his shoulder and run, putting the man down to kill the crazy man limited their chances of survival, he didn't know if the crazy man was truly incapacitated, and if the man he was trying to save came round to find himself in a darkened stairwell witnessing what to his eyes would be a murder he would likely panic, he could scream for help thereby alerting others, or try to flee, and in his injured state, panicking, with limited vision and crumbling steps he could end up dead at the bottom of the next stairwell before he could catch him.

It was now or never-  the crazy man sat bolt upright, blood pouring down his dirty face, his jet black eyes crazed as he **bellowed** the sound almost inhuman, he should have shot, but his instincts told him to **_RUN, NOW!_**

He could hear footsteps, people were coming from the floors above! he ran down the stairs as fast as possible while keeping the man securely over his shoulder and keeping the pointing ahead, he couldn't stop, _ **if he did they were both dead.**_

The rain made everything slick and hard to see and was more difficult to find his way now. When he was racing to find the man some sixth sense led to his location,  but now that he had him, it  wasn't working to get them both out of here alive!

He could hear multiple footsteps thundering in their direction, how many could he shot before they were overrun? What if they had guns too? He put the gun in his pocket shifting the man's position, sneaking out quietly was no longer an option, their only chance was to get to his car, he needed the keys more than the gun, and he couldn't carry both and secure the man on his shoulder while running.

He finally burst into the lower stairwell, racing down it until he saw the metal flap door he had used to come in, he ran into it as it slapped loudly against the wall advertising their position but there was no time to slow and exit quietly,  he could hear their pursuers close on their heels as he raced out of the building running into the near torrential rain, water, firearms, and near pitch darkness was not a good combination, he couldn't rely on the gun even if he could get to it.

he hit the button to locate his car, but the responding beeping sounded like it was coming from a distance, _dammit! had he run the wrong way?!_ was he now at the back of the building instead of the front? No, he had run out the way he came in, it had to be the storm making it difficult to hear and giving the illusion of distance, that or the cat had been moved; no the car was responding add parked, the only way it could be both moving and still locked was if it were being towed, unlikely in this neighbourhood at this time of night, If he didn't get his bearings and move they would be caught, ** _if they were caught they died._**

He pressed the button again, and forced himself to focus, drowning out the other sounds as best he could for a moment. The beep sounded closer now and he made his move running out of the shadow of the alley, but a group of teenagers were advancing on it attracted by the flashing lights on the Super car they probably hadn't noticed on the blackened street with its vandalised street lights waiting for repair. He charged the group converging on his car,  tightening his grip on the man and bellowing ‘MOVE AWAY!’ He could only hope the element of surprise worked as he used the electronic key to unlock the car door, quickly swapping it for the gun, _‘I said **move’**_ , the kids, and they were kids he realised, far younger up close than he had first thought, simply stared at him, their pale faces disturbingly vacant as they showed no signs of moving, but he couldn't afford to lower the gun,  it was the only leverage he had, and despite their youth there were at least ten of them, and any or even all of them could be armed with a knife or a gun.

He could hear their pursuers who they had lost momentarily in the blackened rain-soaked area, their loud voices disturbingly clear, there was a loud whistling and popping sound to his far left and the children began shouting and running, _their pursuers were shooting at them!_

He opened the driver side and threw the man in the car, diving in after him and slamming the door shut as he gunned the engine. Panic and gunshots rang out and he kept his head down while hitting reverse, squealing away from sudden rush of bodies gathered around the front of the car hemming him in, assailants, or those trapped in the gunfire, he couldn't tell as he spun the car around, flooring the accelerator and speeding down the street while quickly checking his side and rear view mirrors. the road rapidly disappearing behind him was empty, they were not being followed by car, _he had to make sure it stayed that way._

The satellite navigation system told him to turn back but that wasn't an option he took the next turning relieved to find the next road ran parallel to the previous one as the SatNav began re-routing the quickest way home. He checked his rear view mirror again, glanced over at the man slumped in the passenger seat checking his condition. He was showing no signs of coming round and his head wound, the one he had felt as if it was happening to him was steadily oozing blood. He almost missed the turning and recklessly spun right, the brand new tires squealing loudly as he changed gear and floored the accelerator, glancing over at the man again, he hadn't been able to shield him from the from the howling wind and rain the man was soaking wet and _freezing_  cold as he reached over and touched him while trying to keep his eyes on the road he had to get him help quickly.

He lifted his foot off the accelerator so he could check the man's pulse again, it was defiantly weaker **_not good._ **


	10. Escape

_He had to get the man medical attention **now**_. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator as he took a reckless turn at high speed, he had to make sure they were not being followed, the whole fiasco had not gone down without witnesses, if they were pursued by the man’s attackers they would be outgunned. He checked his rear view mirror and took another sharp turn at speed.

Damn it he had no idea where he was going! He reached for the SatNav on his phone while trying to navigate the dimly lit streets, his speed inching up to 70 miles an hour. Could he risk using the GPS Guidance on his phone? …anything tying either him or the man to the scene… Damn it the tracker in his car, it wasn’t like he had time to disable it before he went racing out of the house on a vision based quest he could never explain in court… 

He would just have to get inventive with the evidence if it incriminated them after the fact, _right now he had to get them out of here._

‘Function. Maps, Directions. Home from current location’.

_‘Activating, finding your location… searching’_

‘Hurry up’ he growled behind clenched teeth while glancing over at the man who still hadn’t moved.

His foot pressed down on the accelerator and his dash flashed up a speed warning as his SatNav started blaring mechanised directions. He forced his foot off the accelerator because he couldn’t risk being pulled over. An unconscious man whose name he didn’t know in his car would bring questions he could not answer, and questions he suspected the man wouldn't want asked.

Hospitals meant questions and questions that could not be answered satisfactorily meant police, that meant no hospitals...

He raced through an intersection and took another sharp turn reversing into an alley, he shut off the engine and waited, his finger gripping the gun. 10 seconds, 15, 20, 30… He let out his breath. There was no sign they were being followed. He glanced around, put the gun into the glove box, and checked the guidance system properly. He could be back to civilisation in eight minutes. He pulled out at speed.

He could still feel it the tension the terror but it was different now it was for the man's survival the other feeling the emptiness, the wariness, it was gone, vanished just like before, one moment it was slowly eating away at him like always and now it was just gone.

He realised he had one hand on the man's body while the other was driving. The man was disturbingly cold and was showing no signs of coming to but he was alive, _he could **feel**_ it. He debated pulling over again but he had rushed out of the house without a jacket and he had no blankets in the car, there was no way to warm him other than to get him someplace safe and get him medical attention as quickly as possible.

_There was one person…_

He snatched the phone out of the dock and dialled the familiar number that was no longer programmed into his phone.

‘Hello’.

‘Call me back on a secure line’.

_Click_

_Damn it did he know it was him and hang up or did he hang up because_ \- His phone rang from an undisclosed number and he answered immediately. ‘Be at the end of your street in the next’ -he quickly typed the new address into the SatNav- ‘15 minutes with your equipment and make sure you are not seen. I will make it worth your while’.

There was an agonising pause as he rounded the next corner tires squealing, ‘YES?’

…‘Okay’.

Click.

“The Surgeon” as he had unimaginatively come to be known was waiting for him away from the street lights, dressed in discreet dark clothing, his medical bag neatly stowed under the hedge. It was almost impossible to see him unless you knew he was there quietly waiting. The headlights illuminated the surgeon’s preppy quaffed blonde hair and aquarium eyes as he pulled up to meet him.

 

_Brady hadn’t aged a day in all the years he'd known him_.

He quickly drove off glad for the first time that Brady had inexplicably switched to medicine over law back in college because another lawyer would be of no use in the current situation.

They had remained friends in college and into their professional lives _until…_

Brady didn’t hesitate as he grabbed the man’s wrist from the back seat and took his pulse. ‘A little low, and his body temperature isn't great, I need to get him out of these wet clothes, do his vitals properly, and run some tests. How long has he been like this?’

‘I don’t know, I found him this way, it could be anything from the last ten minutes to the last few hours, _is he going to be okay'?_

‘Impossible to say at this stage, he could have internal bleeding, I need to run some tests, so if you want him to survive, which I'm guessing you do since you called me, we need to work quickly- here put this over him’. Brady handed him a flat silver heat blanket and he covered the man as best he could. ‘I'll keep checking his vitals as best I can while your driving, although it would be good to know where exactly you plan on taking an unconscious, soaking, and from what I can tell beat up kid in the middle of the night where no one will ask questions you clearly don't want to answer since you called me, and how long it will take to get there -wait does the great Sam not have a plan? because I'm really starting to feel like you don't have a plan, and that means we are officially through the looking glass, _what the hell happened?’._

Sam looked in the rear view mirror and their eyes met and held for a moment, and something in his expression made Brady hold up his hands. ‘look in my professional opinion he's not in any immediate danger of death, his pulse is slow but steady and he's breathing normally, my main concern is not knowing how long he's been unconscious or if he has any internal damage- by the way, hello to you too Sam, yes it has been a while, no it's no trouble to leave my house in the middle of the night to meet you without an explanation, what are friends you’ve completely ignored for the last three years for?’

‘Thank you for meeting me, I recognise the circumstances are far from ideal’.

‘Don’t ever thank me again Brady drawled with a dramatic fake shudder, ‘somehow coming from you it’s the most disturbing thing I've ever heard. Speaking of disturbing things, this kid’s _really_ pretty Sam, you can tell me if this is really about a private party gone wrong, maybe a client of yours, maybe you, a lot can change in a guys life in three years, you can tell me,  _I'm not judging_ ’ Brady grinned, proving even his recent fortunes had apparently done nothing to quell his inappropriate sense of humour. ‘Take a right here’ Brady was all business again, ‘I know a safe house we can take him to’.

‘No, my house nowhere else’.

‘Sam, Have I been out of your life so long you've forgotten how this town really works? There are informants everywhere, if anybody is looking for that kid, and I'm just going to go ahead and guess from the frantic midnight dash were on that they are, taking him to the cities most famous lawyers house is a _seriously_ **bad** idea'.

'There's nothing linking us' ...he tried his investigator again.

The number you are trying to call is currently unavailable, please try your call again later.

The investigator was the only other person who could link them, _and he was missing_.  

He tried is number again. Nothing. The Fountain had proven his loyalty in the past, but everyone had a price or something that could be leveraged against them.  

Brady was watching him 'are you sure about that Sam, are you sure no one can link the two of you?because you better be damn sure before you bring him to the first place the cops will look, especially if this is part of some high society scandal. No Sam, an organisation safe house is his best shot, we’re not the police we have actual integrity, no one’s going to talk, which judging by the fact you called me is a factor here’.

...Just because the attack occurred in a rundown part of town and was carried out by lowlifes didn't mean it wasn't linked to something higher up. 

It was completely plausible that the man on the stairs the supposed Boss also answered to someone higher up the food chain. The supposed sex-murder that had been set up could all of been a particularly nasty hit, given to lowlifes to carry out in a way that meant sex crimes rather than homicide investigated. 

He spent a lot of time around cops, he knew what a hotbed of corruption vice was and he'd seen the hypocrisy and bigotry against sex workers first hand when taking public defender cases back in law school. That bigotry alone would have seen little focus and resources put towards solving the murder of an unidentified male the river washed up if he was a suspected prostitute. Meaning all anyone involved had to do was make sure the cops believed he was a sex-worker and the case would be cold by the end of the week, with the added bonus of not having to pay off corrupt cops to tamper with evidence and witnesses.

If it really was a hit the man was still in serious danger, should he go to this safe house Brady recommended? Brady worked or more accurately at his point was a key figure in ‘the organisation’. The top of the criminal food chain. Their reach extended all over the city, nothing happened without their say so, and anyone foolish enough to challenge them, be they Senators, public officials, detectives, prosecutors, journalists or joe public, simply disappeared without a trace or more conveniently committed suicide, _in fact, suicide, had become a pandemic of late._

The man's attackers had spoken of a boss, making it entirely believable that the low-level grunts had ties to the organisation. _He could very well be delivering him back into the hands of the very men who'd tried to kill him._

‘No. My house. No one knows about this except you and me’  _and his investigator._

Brady stared at him for a moment, ‘Sam even if that wasn't a colossally bad idea,  we need the kind of equipment you don’t have at your house and I can't just bring there without drawing attention. I have a place that is off the grid, call it my private practice. We can go there at first at least to run the tests- look why call me if you don’t trust me?’

‘It’s never been about not trusting you Brady’.

The - _it’s about what you did-_ hung unspoken in the air.

‘Sam there is no way I can give this kid proper medical care from your house, you have to make a decision’.

‘Alright, but as soon as he is able to leave we’re moving him’.

‘Whatever you say. The place is about 20 minutes from here, give me your phone’. Brady sketched a map on the note feature and handed it back to him. ‘Get to the point marked on the map and I will direct you from there, this car is seriously flashy so when you get there kill the lights and keep it under 35 we don’t want to arouse suspicion- speaking of which', Brady thrust what appeared to be a dollar bill into his line of vision’.

Sam put the dollar in his pocket.

‘Brady's voice was quiet as he locked eyes with him for a moment in the rear view mirror before checking the man's vitals. 'No change. Sam, I've been wanting to ask you something since we parted ways, and now is as inappropriate a time as any. When you left me, was it about what I _allegedly_ did, or the fact you think I enjoyed doing it’.

‘I don't _think_ you enjoyed doing it, I  ** _know_** you enjoyed doing it and so do you, what's the point of this conversation?’

‘Yeah, I thought so, you always could read me Sam, even when no one else can. What I… what happened Sam it wasn’t about money, or whatever else the press said, it was about her, it was all about her and deep down I think you know… _its exactly what you would have done in my place’._

‘Careful Brady’.

‘I know how much you love Jess Sam, I was there remember? I pushed for your relationship, I was best man at your wedding, when you love someone like that… even the **_thought_** of losing them is enough to make you lose your mind, that’s why I'm saying you would have done the same thing, if someone took the person you loved the most away from you, you would have killed them too and we both know it’.

_He was right, **but** …_

‘I would _never_ hurt Jess Brady, never no matter the circumstances’.

‘You think I set out to- she was my heart, Sam, remember I used to always say that, and losing her tore it out… if I did it, which I'm not saying I did, it would have been because I _couldn’t_ see that heart beating for someone else…’

‘One, I know you did it, and two, the dollar means I'm your lawyer Brady, so if we must discuss this lets at least dispense with the attempts at non-self-incriminating, it's pointless, everything you've said since you gave me the dollar comes under attorney-client privilege’.

‘Yeah, I know that, but what about the blonde in the front seat?’

He's unconscious, and at best would be privy to hearsay from a privileged conversation which is both illegal and inadmissible in court. Have you forgotten everything about being a lawyer except token hire? And for the record, you're wrong Brady. I couldn’t understand what you did to her, yes, but I never judged, that’s not my job, my job was making sure no one could prove it and I did’.

‘Yeah, you went above and beyond my friend. You weren’t exactly liked before then but the police and the D.A. have actively loathed you since you publically exposed them for their incompetence and corruption with my case’.

Sam kept to the back streets hoping to encounter as few other cars as possible as details of the case flooded his mind.

 _Brady had fallen in big time in their final year, drugs, alcohol, and a parade of women turning him into a rich slacker who wouldn’t amount to much even if he didn’t O.D. before the year was out._ He'd refused to allow it, and with his help Brady eventually got his act tougher and graduated top of his class, going on to become a successful, highly respected surgeon married to a woman he seemed to genuinely love.

_**And then one night everything had changed.** _

_Brady had called him panicked and not making any sense. Brady was the emotional type sure, but he was a quick thinker in a crisis, so for him to be in such a state meant it had to be bad.  He'd told him to hang up the phone, remove the battery and not to move or speak to anyone until he got there._

_He had walked into that house to find Brady’s wife and business partner dead on the floor. Their hearts had been cut out of their chests and laid next to their bodies and he'd been through enough forensic evidence in court to know blood spatter like that only occurred peri-mortem. **The victims had been alive when their hearts were cut out.**_

_The blood hadn't darkened or clotted yet which meant it was still fresh and the murder had to have happened in the last hour. Brady was drenched in blood and gripping onto the murder weapon and his wife's body as if he couldn't let either go._

_Brady told him the scalpel had been stuck in his wife's body and unable to bear seeing it stuck in the cavity where her heart should be he had pulled it free._

_Initially he'd chosen to believe his friend. Brady had clashed with the organisation when he refused to allow them to use him and his practice as a front for illegal surgeries. The organisation had also approached him about acquiring him and his practice as in-house lawyers representing the organisation's interests so he'd_ _known the kind of pressure they exerted first hand, and that it was entirely possible they had sent this macabre message  to let Brady know his working for them wasn't a request.  
It would hardly be the first time The Organisation had used extreme violence to ensure people said yes to them, which meant it could have happened how Brady said and the blood he was covered in could have come from holding his wife's body in his arms; so in the interest of giving his distraught best friend the benefit of the doubt, which was something the police would never do even if they were so inclined, he'd helped Brady clean himself up and destroy his clothing... **and the murder weapon**._

_He'd called the police when he was satisfied all trace evidence physically linking Brady to the crime was gone and not allowed Brady to say a word no matter how hard the detectives grilled him._

_For a while even his legendary sixth sense had been tested trying to determine the truth._ _It was entirely plausible that Brady had come home and found his wife and business partner murdered as he claimed? and if it was premeditated he would hardly allow himself to be seen covered in blood holding the murder weapon.  
On the other hand, the sheer stupidity of allowing yourself to be seen covered in blood holding the murder weapon  **helped** sell the story that he found them that way, making it the perfect way to get him to believe his story and help him._

_Not being able to read people was a problem he'd seldom if ever encountered, it was part of what made him such a skilled lawyer, yet it had always been harder to get a read on Brady than most._

_On the first day of college Brady had sought him out and insisted they would be friends even though he hadn’t had any particular interest in making any friends or in people in general at the time. Brady had made him see the world around him and pushed him towards Jess, he'd done and said all the right things to prove himself a friend; but there had always been something lurking beneath the easy good looks and casual affection, and it occurred to him that Brady and Jess were the only two people to get past his guard, meaning they were the only two people he never really tried to read in depth; but now Jess wanted nothing to do with Brady, saying she'd seen a glimpse of the monster behind the façade and it had scared the hell out of her._

_Jess had impeccable instincts, it was why she was so successful, she always knew which of his clients she could bring back to the top, selling sinners as saints to sinners she called it and she excelled at it. He'd seen her stare down actual serial killers and promote criminals as the new rebel heroes of the world to an adoring public hooked on her ability to spin and present the truth the way she saw fit. In short, she was not rattled by murderers, but she refused to speak to yet alone see Brady._

_So he'd decided to push aside his rare sentiment and read Brady as he would any other suspect, and the moment he had looked into his eyes he had known the truth as simply and clearly as he knew his own name- Brady had done it **and he had enjoyed every second.**_

… and yet, something  didn’t add up and looking at Brady now over three years later, it _still_ didn’t add up, his sadness when he spoke about what happened was as profound as if it happened yesterday- and when he'd looked into his eyes years ago he'd clearly seen a man that had relished the kill just as he had with other murderers, but he'd also seen _utter devastation_.

The distress in Brady's voice, the shock, the pain, the suffering it wasn't faked. When Brady broke down and wept it had been real, his grief over the loss of his wife had been genuine. It was as if the murder and Brady’s feelings were unrelated somehow, _it just didn’t make sense._

Not that knowing Brady was guilty of murder had changed his mind about taking the case. It was his job to _defend_ not to judge, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret destroying evidence when it was in the best interest of his client and best friend; however, as it turned out he need not have bothered. **The case had never seen trial.**

_The defence had circumstantial evidence at best, there was no murder weapon, trace evidence on his client, or motive. He'd personally seen to it that all of it had been destroyed, trusting no one else with the truth, not even Jessica._

_The final nail in the coffin of the case going to trial, however, came from an unexpected mistake. A young girl had stumbled across the crime scene while her stepmother and the officer in charge were exchanging heated words about the police cordon effectively blocking off access to her expensive home. The girl had ducked under the tape and seeing a room crammed with people wearing strange CSI suits taking pictures the girls curiosity had propelled her to see what was going on, none of the supposedly seasoned detectives noticed the little girl wondering into a crime scene and before anyone knew it the girl had seen the bodies and started screaming at the top of her lungs. A rookie officer at the scene had panicked, quickly covering the hearts and surgically mutilated bodies with a nearby rug and contaminating the evidence in the process._

_He was merciless in his censure of the police department for the fiasco and the D.A.s office for trying to cover it up. In the end, the judge had no choice but to throw the case out on a technicality._

_Out of spite the D.As office and the local police department both of whom had taken it upon themselves to hate him personally had leaked details of the murder to the press. Soon the once upstanding Dr T. Brady had become the focus of lurid tabloid speculation and growing outrage at his never seeing trial. He had been forced to close his practice and his finances took a turn, but as his lawyer, he had seen to it that he kept his medical licence and never saw a day in court yet alone a night in jail._

_Brady's associates at his clinic distanced themselves from him and bought him out of his own practice. Brady was seriously entitled and now thanks to an "anonymous" tip to the tax department regarding alleged embezzling and tax evasion he'd found himself with his financial assets frozen, his reputation in tatters, and his powerful social group ostracising him. No one would work with him, he had tried to help, but Brady's entitlement was matched by his stubbornness and so he had chosen what he must have felt was the only path open to him and he soon found very lucrative work with new friends, the kind that had the power to shut down tabloid speciation and even idle gossip permanently. Organised crime always had use for a surgeon who was not afraid to get his hands dirty and had no love for the police, and with the organisation's backing Brady was once again a prominent respected pillar of the community, or at least on the surface. Soon he had a brand new practice and had driven his former associates out of business as well as out of town, he was once again the toast of his social circle, and whatever people were thinking no one dared say a thing to his face._

‘You saved me best robot buddy’ Brady drawled snapping him out of his thoughts. The ridiculous college nickname he'd insisted on calling him seeming strange after all these years without contact. ‘I was facing life in prison and at the time I didn’t care. I was a mess; I don’t have to tell how bad it was, you were there. I just didn’t know who I was anymore… and I don’t care if it was publicity or whatever, you standing by me for as long as you did saved my life. Just having you close by reminded me I wasn’t alone, and I still had someone who would go to bat for me even when everyone else in my life abandoned me.

To his mind Brady didn’t owe him for keeping him out of jail, the arrest had been so sloppy an incompetent public defender on his first day could have got him off, and he had removed him from his personal life after the obligatory period of showing public support for his client, but clearly Brady was misguided as to the actual reason why.

‘Brady for the record, the distance since then is not about the case, It’s about who you chose to work for afterwards. They were pretty aggressive with trying to recruit me but I'm my own man, my law firm is mine, I decide who I represent. I wanted nothing to do with them, you know this, I asked you not to get involved with them, that we would rebuild your life another way but you accepted their offer anyway, then they suddenly lost interest in acquiring me and my firm...'

‘The answer to what your wondering is yes I made a deal. You took a bullet for me Sam and to repay you I proposed a deal, I work for them and they back off. At the time they needed a surgeon a little more than they needed a lawyer’.

‘I thought it may have been the case at the time. The organisation does not just give up and they always meet refusal with retaliation unless something else they want is offered. But once you joined you must have known we would have to break ties for a number of reasons'.

‘I was paying you back the only way I could, it’s not like I had any money at the time. I needed the job, no one else would hire me, I’d gone from running a practice to not being able to get a job at a fast food restaurant. I know you offered to let me help anonymously on cases and pay me, heck you even offered me a loan, you were a good friend Sam, but I had to pick myself up after losing everything and stand on my own two feet. So I took the low-level patch-up-off-the-radar jobs and used it as an opportunity to work my way up the organisation's ranks. It was the only way to rise from the ashes of my former life’.

‘I should have… For the record Brady, thank you’.

'What did I say about you thanking me Sam, it's just downright disturbing. Look I understand why you felt you had to walk away, Jess couldn't stand the sight of me anymore and I was up to my neck in the very organisation you were so determined to have nothing to do with. I just need you to understand something, no matter what I've done, no matter who I work for or with, I'm your friend Sam, I always have been and I always will be, and I came when you called because that’s what friends do. Besides, I've been keeping tabs on you and given some of your courtroom antics and how you have the entire NYPD and District Attorney's office pissed at you, I figured you’d call because you need me for something someday’.

‘You figured right’.

Brady locked eyes with him ‘Don't I always when it comes to you Sam, don’t I always know exactly what you need?’

_Yes, he did._


	11. Haven

‘Turn right here’ Brady instructed.

They had driven about twenty minutes with Sam following the map Brady had drawn, while Brady monitored the man, assuring him his vitals were stable.

They had passed the last point of the map some streets ago as he now turned onto a small side road with a narrow path that was almost completely hidden away.

‘Stop here’.

He applied the brakes, just about able to see the black wall-like gate ahead of them.

Brady entered a code on his phone and the gate swung forwards, moving quickly and quietly despite its solid appearance.

‘Drive slowly and turn left on my mark’.

Brady entered another code and he recognised a nearby sound as he drove slowly and carefully in the near pitch dark, with his car lights off.

The sound was expensive hushed hydraulics, from a reinforced garage door that slid straight up like his own, and probably couldn't even be seen opening in the current darkness.

‘ _Mark’_.

He turned left and into an entrance he could barely see.

‘A little further, okay stop, kill the engine’.

Even with the engine off he could still barely hear the sound of the garage door lowering behind them.

Brady exited the car as the door locked into place. It was so dark he seemed to literally disappear, swallowed up by darkness.

Subdued lighting filled the garage a moment later and he could see Brady walking back towards the car as he got out and began pushing the seat forward so he could get to the man.

‘We’re safe. We weren't followed and this place is as much a fortress as it is a clinic’.

Brady indicated a steel door up a few stairs to the right of him. The door resembled something you would find on a bank vault.

‘Come on, let's get your pretty boy inside’.

Brady moved to help him as he extracted the man from the back seat gathering him in his arms.

‘I've got it’ he murmured, feeling that sense of rightness again as soon as he touched him.

‘Okay He-man go ahead’ Brady drawled. ‘Heft the unconscious pretty boy all by yourself, strain your robo back, -whatever you like’.

He gritted his teeth in no mood for Brady’s perpetual inappropriate humour. They were not out of the woods yet, the immediate danger of being followed and attacked might be over but the man was still unconscious.

Brady gestured for him to follow and he carried the man up the stairs and through the large steel door Brady unlocked with a palm scan and voice recognition.

They entered a pristine, state of the art looking medical facility, which _had to be an organisation medical research black sites._

Brady led him to an examination room as the vault like door automatically closed and locked behind them.

He gestured for him to lay the man down on the examination table. His apprehension spiked hard the moment he lost body contact with him and he stayed close by his side.

Brady quickly washed his hands and attached the man to a monitor by placing a sensor clip on his finger.

The machine beeped to life and Sam found himself strangely fascinated listening to the steady beat of the man’s heart, broadcast through the state of the art machinery.

He studied the machines monitor. The red, amber, and green colour coding showing the man’s pulse, respiration, and blood pressure were all in the green zone.

_That had to mean safe, right?_

Brady was examining the monitor's display, nodding as if satisfied, and making notes.

There were no sudden moves for crash carts or injections or anything else he might associate with disaster, and Brady had reported his vitals as stable during the drive here and now the machines indicated the same. It had to be an encouraging sign the man wasn't in any immediate danger _...but why wasn’t he waking up?_

He was about to ask when he followed Brady’s line of vision, noting his part bewildered part suspicious expression. His hand, he realised, was encircling the man’s wrist. His index and forefinger pressed to his pulse point, feeling the warm steady beat of his heart.

It was as if he could feel his own heart beat slowing to match as he watched the rise and fall of the man’s chest. His gaze travelling to the beautiful curve of his sculpted lips, which had regained their soft rose like colour. Unlike the terrible blue they had been when he carried him from the building where they had both come so close to dying.

... _Where he did die in the vision._

He looked up to find Brady was still watching him. Studying him in that way he often had, as if he were a case or specimen he found fascinating.

‘His vitals are still good. Trust me the machine is monitoring him better than your amateur nurse routine. I don’t know if it’s cute or insulting to my medical skills since you feel the need to take his pulse yourself’.

Brady huffed out a breath. ‘You don’t do cute, so I have to assume where your pretty boy is concerned neither my skills or state of the art machinery will satisfy you over a hands-on examination. -Or since you're not actually a doctor could it just be that you enjoy feeling him up?’.

Brady grinned at him, then was all professional again as he lifted the man’s eyelid, shining a light into his eyes while he forced himself to let go of the man’s wrist, trying to process the sudden feeling of acute _loss._

‘Why isn't he waking up?’ He demanded as Brady repeated the examination and made notes.

‘He’s non-responsive Sam. There could be a number of reasons for this, some not so bad, some not so good. I have my suspicions but I'm going to need to run some tests before I can determine the cause for sure. You should wait in the next room while I prep him’.

‘No?’

‘Thought not. Well, since you're here hovering anyway why don’t you answer some questions. ‘Do you know anything about his medical history?’

Sam shook his head.

‘Okay, let's start with the basics. Name? Age?’

‘I don’t know’.

‘So, I guess I'll just go ahead and tick "male" for gender on the form, or are you unsure about that too?’

‘Brady. I am not withholding information, what would be the point? I need you to help him. I just can’t tell you what I don’t know’.

Brady’s aquarium eyes narrowed and Sam tried to bite back his frustration. He knew Brady had the lawyer bit between his teeth now, and was watching his every reaction even while quickly laying out medical supplies and setting up equipment with smooth practised professionalism.

It wasn't like he wanted to sound cryptic and vague, and further rouse Brady’s suspicion that he and the man were in a sexual relationship. But there really wasn't anything he could say that would change that given the circumstances.

And the fact he didn't want to be away from the man now that he had him clearly wasn’t helping matters.

He knew saying no questions wasn't going to get him anywhere good. He had to give him something, _but what?_

‘Brady, I really can’t tell you anything right now. Just help him, or what was the point of bringing him here?’

Brady sighed. ‘Whatever is going on here, you’re clearly going to need my help for more than just the medical stuff. Your unconscious pretty boy is my patient as of me not getting right back out of the car when I saw him beat up and passed out in your back seat. So, I’m going to treat him regardless. -But I’m going to need that explanation sooner rather than later Sam and it’s going to have to be better than anything you’ve said so far’.

Sam sighed as Brady looked him up and down, his aquarium eyes narrowing, a half smirk on his face as he drawled, _just what has my robo best buddy been up to?’_

Sam gritted his teeth as Brady grinned at him, scrubbed his hands thoroughly and put on his lab coat.

‘All right, since we're breaking all medical protocol, I’m going to go ahead and designate you chief of stare-at-pretty-boy studies in residence, a lofty title that means you can help me undress him, _and Let's not pretend **that**_ ** _’s_** _not on your mind’._

Sam gritted his teeth harder.

‘Scrub your hands and come help me’.

Brady put on latex gloves and began cutting the man’s upper clothing open with surgical scissors.

Sam dried his hands and returned by to the man’s side.

‘That’s a strange tattoo’ Brady remarked, pulling the material away and exposing the man’s naked torso.

‘-Sam!’ Brady snapped his fingers. ‘quit staring and help me’. Brady handed him the pieces of the man’s clothing then pointed to a table to their left. ‘Put them in the bag over there’.

Sam flushed and Brady stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, ‘Oh I have **_got_** to know what finally rattled the great wall of Sam’.

Brady held the man’s wallet in his hand flipping through it. No ID whatsoever unless we're counting three credit cards that can’t be his, unless the name you apparently don’t know is really Mr Bambi Woods’.

‘Let's see what else, no cash. Several extra-large condoms of various flavours. Interesting’. -Brady paused and he looked up to see him studying the photograph he had last seen when one of the attackers threw it on the ground.

He wasn't aware that he’d collected the man’s wallet and contents when he snagged the pieces of his broken phone, but he must have how else could they be here?

Brady looked at the man then back at the photo. ‘I see the resemblance this must be him and his mother’. Brady whistled low, ‘That explains where he gets his looks, that is one hot Mama’.

The attackers had pretty much said the same thing except with more vulgarity. He didn’t remember taking the picture much less looking at it so he no idea what the woman looked like.

Brady searched through the rest of the wallet. ‘Well, Nothing else here but lint’.

Brady put the picture back in the wallet. ‘Put his effects into the smaller bag’.

‘Now, about you, him, and those extra-large condoms. Tell you what Sam, while you inappropriately assist as I strip your pretty boy naked for his medical exam, let's talk that through’

‘Let's not’ he gritted out, placing the material in a clear plastic zip lock bag as Brady grinned at him.

He turned his attention back to the man. It _was_ a strange tattoo with its intricate symbols in the circular design, and yet there was something vaguely _familiar_ about it.

His hand was on the man's chest before he knew and he was tracing the patterns branded into the man’s flesh. - _His entire **being** lurched._ His skin tingling, his body heating up, images, sounds, voices… _something else, some faint memory, golden hair, green eyes, warmth, singing-_

_‘ **-Sam**!’_

Brady’s voice brought him sharply into the present. ‘I’ve been calling your name for over a minute. Is he really that fascinating to you?’ Brady was openly staring at him and he removed his hand with effort.

‘…Ooookay’ Brady drawled, ‘if you're done touching up my patient I’d like to proceed’

Brady’s eyebrows rose and he whistled low.

He realised he must look undecided about being done "touching up" the man, -and he'd obviously just made the problem of Brady’s suspicions about his relationship with the man a thousand times worse with his actions. - _But he couldn't stop himself._ Even now his palms itched to lay on the man’s warm flesh, his fingers flexed wanting to return to tracing the patterns of his tattoo and he clenched his hands into fists.

‘Listen since you're intent on staying in here, and since I don't have anyone to assist me and you clearly can’t keep your hands off him anyway, I'm going to need you to manage this handsy disposition you seem to have developed in my absence and actually help me’.

Sam scowled, which he was sure he only ever did with Brady, and Brady grinned because clearly getting reactions such as childish scowling out of his “robo best buddy” was still his favourite pass time.

‘I need to set up an IV and run some tests. Why don't you do the basics and take off his shoes and socks while I cut away the lower half of his clothes. You really should turn your back’. Brady’s eyes narrowed, ‘unless, of course, you’ve seen it all before?’

Sam scowled but said nothing because he wasn't sure anything he said right now could convince Brady of the truth that he hadn’t.

He did turn his back because after the indignities the man had suffered it seemed only right that he be allowed some measure of privacy.

Brady whistled low. ‘Medically speaking that's what we call a humdinger’.

He whipped round to tell Brady to knock it off only to find Brady was teasing him again. The man was covered in a blue paper robe and Brady was holding the pieces of his cut away jeans. No underwear he noted and wondered if Brady had noticed him noticing. His smirk said he had and he busied himself unlacing the man’s boots as Brady attended to him.

He found he was so relieved just to be in close proximity, to be touching him in any small way that his task was no chore.

He was about to bag the boots when he hesitated noticing the blood and dirt embedded in the soles.

He must have picked up the man’s wallet and the discarded photo on autopilot, removing any evidence tying the man to the scene. _Protecting him._

Keeping evidence that placed either of them at the scene of a violent assault and potential homicide was not in the interest of anyone in this room.

‘We need to destroy his clothes and what I'm wearing as well’.

Brady looked at him for a moment and nodded. ‘And the car?’

‘Complete interior and exterior wipe. Bottom line, _anything_ that says I was not a home tonight and can’t be cleaned of trace evidence. _Torch it’._

‘I’ll get my people on it. Don't worry their discretion is guaranteed. It's what they do. Go get any Documents out of the car and put them, your keys, phone, and ID in a sterile bag for cleaning. Take off everything you're wearing and put it in the chemical incinerator along with everything of his. Then take a shower using antibacterial cleanser and wash your hair with it. Got it?’

He nodded. He knew the procedure. It wasn't about erasing every piece of evidence that was difficult, and sometimes, given the variables of the situation, near impossible.

The focus had to be on rendering any evidence damaging to your case inadmissible by any means necessary; cross contamination, legal technicalities, forensic damage, accusations of tampering, anything and everything that gave a judge no choice but to rule the evidence unusable in a court of law.

There was little that accomplished this more decisively than chemical incineration. _The prosecution could not submit into evidence that which no longer existed._

He gathered up the man’s clothes but he couldn't bring himself to throw away the picture. If the man went to such lengths not to be identified as not carrying ID and not so much as giving his name in situations where it would be normal to, carrying a photo that could potentially ID him could only mean it was precious to him.

_It also meant he was going to use it to try to ID him at the earliest._

He also couldn't make himself throw away the smashed pieces of the man’s obsolete, barely functional phone because withoutit _he may never have found him._

**_That didn't bear thinking about._ **

‘Um he's… going to need, well to _want_ this when he wakes up’.

‘ _Really_?’ Brady Drawled his sarcastic tone holding a hint of frustration and the beginnings of anger. ‘By what magic do you come to the conclusion he’s going to want, and, or, need that broken piece of trash? _I mean apparently, you don’t even know his name’._

‘I don't. Brady … _please’_.

Brady’s mouth opened in a shocked O, all traces of frustration and anger gone from his voice and expression. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me, like _ever’._

Brady shuddered. ‘You know what, it's like you thanking me, it's creepy and unsettling. Stop it already! I don't know why you or he needs that piece of junk, but whatever you say. I'll get the team to clean it of trace if that’s what you want’.

‘Now please stop hovering. Your pretty boy is in good hands I assure you. _So_   _go incinerate some evidence already’._


	12. Haven Part 2

They were sitting in Brady's sterile office. Brady was seated behind a cold, impersonal steel desk drinking a cup of coffee.

Sam felt too tense to eat but Brady wasn't having it so he ate the chicken sandwich Brady put in front of him and sipped at the good strong coffee as they talked.

‘So let me get this straight, you're saying you really don't know this kids name?’

Sam shook his head.

‘Is that because you didn't get around to exchanging pleasantries such as names through all the flavoured condoms or...’

‘It's not like that Brady’.

‘Sure Sam, your actions say you have no interest in hitting that _whatsoever_ ’. Brady's usual sarcastic tone held an extra thick layer of sarcasm.

‘Sam You're the last person to be taking in strays, no matter how pretty they are, or how hard you're banging them. Speaking of which, since when did you start stepping out on Jess, with pretty boys who look just like her no less?’

_So Brady could see the resemblance between the man and Jess too._

‘Sam you're going to have to tell me everything eventually or how am I going to help you?’

‘… You wouldn't believe-

-Brady made a sound like a game show buzzer when someone got the wrong answer- ‘Come on Sam, no cliches, we're better than that’.

Sam sighed.

... ‘I really don't know who he is. I met him a few nights ago. I was taking a little extra time driving home, getting a feel for my new car, when the GPS malfunctioned. The next thing I know my electrics have failed and I'm free wheeling in a bad neighbourhood and suddenly he was just _there_ ’.

‘Was he part of some attempt to steal your car, is that what you're telling me?’

‘No, it wasn't an attempted GTA, well not at that point anyway’.

‘Oh that's encouraging. So what, did he use some kind of localised EMP to kill the cars electrics?’

‘I don't believe that's a thing, and no he wasn't involved in the car malfunctioning’.

‘How do you know it's not a thing, and how do you know he wasn't involved?’

‘Brady. You know I can tell when someone is lying to me. He asked me how I knew he wasn't involved as well’.

‘Oh did he now?’

‘And I will tell you what I told him.  _I just know._ Besides, he risked his life to help me and didn't ask for anything in return. I practically had to beg him to let me drive him to a safer part of town as he refused to tell me where he lived. He wouldn't even tell me his name’.

‘Oh that's not suspicious at all, refusing to give a simple introduction to a person you supposedly risked your life to save. Wait’ -Brady frowned- ‘Did you say your car was  _brand new_ and the electrics  _failed?_ _’_

‘Yes’.

‘ _All_ the electrics failed? How? Did they just stop, or did they flicker and  _then_ fail?’

‘What does that-

-‘Humour me. The devil's in the details Sam. You know that’.

‘Alright’ he replied, taking in Brady's pensive frowning. Brady's Mensa level analytical mind never overlooked even minor pieces of information and never forgot details. It was why he was brilliant, a fact he hid behind his preppy lazy facade.

Telling Brady everything might help. His current situation made little logical sense and he wasn't exactly swimming in information to explain it. Two analytical minds had to be better than one at any rate.

‘Let me think... It was the latter. The electrics in the dash were flickering and there was a noise like, …buzzing, then the entire car went dead’.

‘Did you notice the street lights flickering as well?’

He thought back to that night, the night he first met the man who had suddenly become such a huge part of his life,  _a man whose name he still didn't even know._

He thought back to his frustration and disgust with his stupid overpriced supercar, how everything on the dashboard started flickering, ... wait, not just the dashboard, _everything._ He hadn't thought of it until now, but the street lights were flickering too.

Had it really been some kind of new device to disable electronics? Maybe one of the others across the road at the scene had used it, maybe that explained why the street lights were flickering too; but why use it in such an impoverished location? How could they know he would drive their way? ... Maybe they had hacked his GPS to lead him there, which explained the use of location; but then why not attack straight away? Why give the man time to fix his car  _and_  let them both escape? 

_Like everything surrounding meeting the man, **nothing made any sense.**_

‘An electrical dampener doesn't cause flickering. It just kills everything instantly, what you're describing is more like fluctuating power surges’.

‘And you are an expert on this how, and why?’

‘I'm an expert on a lot of things Sam. And in this case, it is because R&D is big money. I meet with investors in lots of different fields all the time. Do I really have to explain how many pies the organisation has its fingers in?’

Sam was silent.

‘So what happened after the car died, You said he was  _just there?_ _’_

‘Suddenly he was tapping the window and I-

-‘Pulled a gun on him like any sane person would?’

‘No I wound the window down’.

‘You what! -Wait, I was just in that quarter million-dollar penis replacement of yours, which having gym showered with you plenty, I happen to know you don't need’. He held up his hand smirking as Sam scowled at him, ‘Just my opinion as a doctor Sam; but I digress. My point is that car doesn't have manual windows, how the hell did you get the window down if the electrics were dead?’

‘They just _started working_ when I pressed the button’.

‘If the electrics came back on why didn't you just drive away, -or were you already hooked on your pretty boy at that point?’

‘They were the only electrics that came back, and only for that moment’.

Brady's eyes narrowed and Sam couldn't blame him because it did sound crazy, but that was what had happened; and now after having visions, well, _crazy was relative._

‘Could you see him clearly?’

‘Not really it was almost pitch black, but the moment I saw him I. ... I felt like I knew him from somewhere’.

‘Well I hope you didn't actually say that to him, because it sounds like a cliché pick up line’.

Sam sighed. The events of that night sounded progressively far-fetched with this retelling of it, -yet every word was true.

‘What happened next, I'm assuming you did more than just stare at him with bow-chicka-bow-wow playing in your head’.

Sam scowled and Brady smiled.

‘He offered to help me get the car started again. It took a couple of attempts while were being observed by individuals across the street whose intentions did not seem friendly. When he got the car started they began to make a move. I told the man to get in, that's when he asked how I knew he wasn't one of them, I assured him I knew he wasn't, he got in, and we left the scene at speed’.

‘So let me get this straight, -no pun intended given the obvious homoerotic overtones of the situation-, your car just goes dead for no reason. You freewheel it to the curb. A pretty boy just appears out of nowhere, he taps your window, you're apparently hooked on first sight and _actually wind it down,_ giving him all the free access he needs to point a gun in your face and take your shitty imported status symbol; but instead of the obvious carjacking, he goes for Samaritan of the year by fixing your car and driving off with you into the sunlight, all the while playing mysterious and hard to get. Did I leave anything out?’

‘It was moonlight. And No’.

‘Then why do I feel like there's a lot more to this story? Are you sure that's everything that happened between meeting and letting a complete stranger into your car because it appeared that he deigned to help you, when in actuality it could well have been part of a con, where after gaining your up until now, virtually unobtainable trust, in a single feat of pretty boy laden faux kindness, he then produces a firearm, forces you, the now apparently gullible Sam into driving to your home at gunpoint, and proceeds to rob and or murder you and Jess.’

‘Brady, it wasn't a con and he wasn't out to rob me. When am I wrong about criminal intent?’

‘So far never, but everything you've done with this kid is so completely out of character I can't help but wonder if he's somehow in your blind spot’.

‘That might well be the case. _If I had one’._

Brady grinned at him, ‘man I've missed that casual robo arrogance’.

‘You realise a robot can be neither casual nor arrogant’.

‘And yet.  _This_ is what I'm talking about’.

Sam sighed and Brady seemed to get his mirth under control.

‘Sam’, he cajoled ‘I know there's more to this, come on, tell me everything, no matter how XL cherry flavoured or, -wait, now that I think of it, a wallet full of condoms also implies he carries but never actually uses them- _Please tell me you were not that stupid and reckless?!_ _’_

Sam looked Brady directly in the eye. His customary mirth had faded. He wasn't joking, his expression was one of medical concern and annoyance as if he couldn't believe he would be that stupid but was also convinced he had been.

‘Brady. I have not had anything resembling sexual contact with that man. His tone was finite his eye contact unwavering. ‘And let me be clear, if I had I would not be sitting here attempting to lie about it. In the given context That would serve no purpose’.

Brady look relieved. ‘Can't be tamed can't be shamed.  _That's my Sam._ Well now that we've established that it hasn't happened,  ** _yet_**. How about you fill in what I'm sure are a plethora of missing details’.

‘Now that you mention it, there was something else between the initial meeting and him fixing and according to you, me allowing a potential murderer into the car. He had the world's most obsolete useless phone that he let me borrow so I could text Jess’.

‘Text. Why not call?’

‘The device was incapable of making calls at that time’.

‘Carrier or signal problems?’

‘No. Redundancy based Malfunction. You saw what was left of it. Trust me it didn't look or perform much better when it was still in one piece’.

‘Um, Okay, we'll circle back to why he would even have that. Did you manage to text Jess?’

‘No. I tried sending a text but I couldn't figure out which button was which because all the information had rubbed off. Jess told me she received a text later, meaning he sent it after he left. The number was unlisted when I checked her phone. Based on my observations the phone seems to be old disposable burner he has decided to keep long term. During our interaction, I did advise him to purchase a phone that actually functions, but he seemed bizarrely attached to it, referring to it in the female gender, while verbally persuading it to work and touching, or I should say stroking it, in a manner I would characterise as borderline sexual’.

‘So you gave a pretty boy with a phone fetish a ride in your car after it mysteriously broke down. He refused to tell you a thing about himself and you, what, let that slide?’

‘Of course not, I kept pressing for answers, but he divulged nothing of any discernible value’.

‘What did you learn anyway?’

‘He has a faint accent. A unique amalgamation, meaning he moved around a lot as a child. He seemed blue collar and short on funds. He was deliberately cagey and just as he was leaving he received a call from a man he called Sir. Upon receiving the call his entire demeanour changed. He had seemed happy-go-lucky up to this point and seemed to delight in frustrating me by telling me nothing. He asked to be let out after receiving the call and vanished’.

‘Vanished?’

‘…I tried to follow him but lost him soon after’.

‘A call that changed his demeanour, you trying to  _follow_  him. These are important details that you initially left out’.

‘My attempt to follow him was fruitless thereby warranting little importance, similarly, I didn't think the state of his obsolete phone was of any real importance’.

‘ _You_. Don’t think details in a case are important, no matter how small or trivial they might seem? _Who are you and what have you done with my Sam?’_

It was the second time during this conversation slash interrogation that Brady had referred to him as ‘‘My Sam’’ and although it was in context this time it was still strange to hear Brady say that after so long.

Brady had always referred to him as  _my_ Sam in college because there were literally five other Sam's in their year alone and Brady had used somewhat impolite monikers rather than surnames to differentiate.

Fat Sam, stoner Sam, busted Sam, creeper Sam, my Sam.

Referring to him as ‘‘My Sam’’ had stuck even after they graduated. Mostly, it seemed to him, so Brady and Jess could get into good-natured debates about whose Sam he really was, often involving asking him ridiculous four-glass-of-wine questions over their many long dinners out.

_‘‘Sam honey which one of us would you take to a deserted Island?’’_

_‘‘Come on best buddy say me for the win’’ ._

He always maintained if he was anyone's Sam he was Jessica's and he'd chose her every time, but Brady was unfazed, saying that one day it would be put to the test and he would choose him.

Jess called their ‘‘bromance’’ ‘‘epically cute’’ often musing about if she should be jealous, which he found ridiculous for her to say even as a joke-

-‘Earth to Sam.  _What is with you?’_

‘Nothing...’

_**Something**... Why was he thinking about the past so much since he'd met the man? _ He wasn't usually nostalgic, not even about Jess. 

Jess... Normally he missed her so much when she went on business trips it was like a mild physical ache. Like something was missing and constantly letting him know it.

He didn't know how he could explain all this to Jess. If the positions were reversed he would have her committed for her own good, doing everything in his power to make sure he got his sane Jess back.

Sam rubbed his face. He was having difficulty concentrating, which was unlike him. It felt as if every  _ **cell**_  in his body was being torn away from this room, wantingto get back to the man.

‘Sam. I can't believe I'm saying this to you of all people but,  _focus_ _’._

‘I put an investigator on finding him. Jess made me think I should have given him remuneration but at the time I knew instinctively that he did not want money from me although he was fully entitled to a reward for his efforts and I would have gladly paid it.

In the interest of full disclosure, I put an investigator on finding him before Jess pointed out I should have insisted on rewarding him as his intervention may well have saved my life and the very least I could have done is keep my opinions about his broken phone to myself as he likely could not afford much better and didn't need to be mocked for it’.

‘In summation, Jess made you feel like an elitist ass?’

‘I had likely been inconsiderate to his financial situation’.

‘Yeah. I can't actually believe I'm having to say  _this_  to you either, but your rambling, -or the robot equivalent. Come on Sam. Get to the part you obviously don't want to tell me about’.

But he couldn't, not even with Brady. _-How could he possibly explain the vision?_

...

His head started to ache as memories assailed him of the vision starting and the  _ **feeling**_  right before it did,

Pain lanced through his brain... because it wasn't possible,  _how could he have just **forgotten**  about it until now?_

His head ached as sure realisation seeped into his brain.

_Tonight wasn't the first time he'd had a **feeling** that something was terribly wrong._

_**And it wasn't the first time he'd acted on that feeling.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Not about that waiting for the update life? Want some more good reading right now? Why not check out all of this ;D_
> 
> ###### 
> 
> How about Wincest with less of a plot and more of unadulterated smut?! ;D please check out [_**As Happy as Larry**_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708401)
> 
> _Dean rides a mechanical bull and Sam is not going to take that laying down any more than I was when I saw it and realised they were taunting us poor fangirls directly in the face! ;o_ 

> 
> ###### 
> 
> If you want to join us on the Darkside of the force why not try [_**Smith and Wesson**_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/992744/chapters/1961692)
> 
> _Poor Sam is a mess. Unable to understand who he is and unable to control his attraction to Dean._ 

> 
> ###### 
> 
> How far is Dean willing to go to save _**his**_ Sam?[ _ **No Rest For The Wicked**_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11853411/chapters/26761590)
> 
> _Dean is being forced to watch helplessly as Sam is being tormented by Lucifer. and needs sleep before his body and mind collapse; unfortunately, the pills and caffeine he's wired on to stay alert and stop Lucifer from taking over mean that's not going to happen. Soulless Sam on the other hand never had to sleep, **a sure sign he wasn't human**. Be warned: the very definition of dubcon in places._ 

> 
> ###### 
> 
> Fancy a story that tackles the elephant in the room where Sam and Dean share a heaven? Check out [_**Soulmate **_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6530224/chapters/14940058)
> 
> _A new case forces Sam to think about what Ash told them in heaven, because if he and Dean really were Soulmates, **they were targets.**_ 

> 
> ###### 
> 
> Fancy the mother of all love triangles? [_**Magic Fingers**_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/988845/chapters/1950786)
> 
> _Sam, Dean, the "Magic Fingers", and pesky Angels that don't know how to knock_ 

> 
> ###### 
> 
> Love you some body swap style shenanigans, and unabashed high jinks? ;D Check out[ _ **Angel**_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/946470/chapters/1848093)
> 
> [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/946470/chapters/1848093)
> 
> _Something unexpected happens to Cas and Dean is not exactly helping matters_ 

> 
> _Now personally I do not believe this story is dark at all; it is mostly just dark humour. However, I have been told I am quite mistaken and Dean's full blow obsession with girl-Cas is just not right!_ 

> 
> ###### 
> 
> Still not sure I got what you need? Why not check out my [_**curiobi Master Fic List**_](http://fanficpics.wixsite.com/curiobi-fic-list)
> 
> There's a brief intro including a post ~~rant~~ about corporate a-holes trying to high jack our right to squee and ship who we want to! Then each chapter is a list of all my works in that particular Fandom. Please check it out I'm sure I have something for you gurl, and if not why not give me a prompt in the comments! ;D


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